Open Studio - The MacDowell Colony

Transcription

Vol. 31, No. 2, Winter 2002
100 High Street,
Peterborough, NH 03458
In this issue:
The Legacy of the
MacDowell Clubs, page 3
The
MacDowell
ColonyNewsletter
Back in Time with a
MacDowell Moment, page 8
MacDowell Downtown
Unveiled, page 9
Jeffery Cotton and Martha
Southgate In Their Own
Words, page 10
New Jersey Meets New
Hampshire in 100 High Street,
page 11
Six Artists, Six Stories:
Open Studio, pages 21–26
Look inside for the
MacDowell
SPOTLIGHT
The MacArthurs, PEN Awards,
poetry prizes, Whitings, and
MacDowell’s new web site
Medal Day 2002
ecently I had the wonderful opportu- not be predicted, however, is the spread
nity to go to Helsinki to attend the of the artist residency concept itself.
eighth general meeting of Res Artis, the There has been a renaissance of programs
international association of artist residency both here and abroad that I believe is
programs. Twenty-three countries partici- seeded by the good response artists have
pated in the conference, which addressed to programs such as MacDowell’s. The
two questions: What are the roles of resi- Alliance of Artists Communities,
dential centers and artists in the globaliza- founded in 1989 and based in Rhode Istion process, and how does international land (www.artistcommunities.org), now
mobility affect the production of culture? has 79 institutional members.
Res Artis, founded in 1993
Lofty questions for a young organization.
MacDowell has welcomed interna- and headquartered in Amstertional artists since our early days because dam (www.resartis.org), has
Edward MacDowell, who was a founding 202 members. These two ortrustee of the American Academy in ganizations intercept inquiries
Rome, and Marian MacDowell, who from dozens of new programs
studied piano in Europe, knew full well each year: from Utah and Verhow profound the experience of traveling mont to Brazil, Taiwan, and
abroad could be. The MacDowells also Zambia. This is good news
believed that being in your own country for artists in that there are
in a community of artists from different more opportunities to be supdisciplines and backgrounds could be ported through a residency
equally profound. Having international than ever before. But I think
artists at the Colony was part of their vi- it also signals conditions that
sion of supporting American artists and are less than celebratory.
If we look back at the first
the production of American culture.
MacDowell, the oldest residency pro- wave of residency programs in
gram in the U.S., turned out to be the this country at the turn of the
oldest program at the conference. This century, they were founded in
response to a lack of
prompted me to think
support for artists.
about what has changed in In order for growth in
Visionary citizens gathered priterms of international
the
field
to
occur
globally
vate resources to improve condiartists at MacDowell in the
tions along a wide spectrum of
last 100 years. Of the 240 it will be necessary to
social causes. Art colonies were
artists we welcome each
created as were libraries, univeryear, 10-20 are foreign. globalize the idea of
sities, orphanages, hospitals,
The number is higher
and museums, filling a gap the
when you add interna- philanthropy itself.
government could not. A model
tional artists who reside in
– Cheryl Young of philanthropy (and governNew York, arguably the
Executive Director ment tax incentives conducive
capital of the art world and
from where MacDowell draws the most to it) emerged that allowed non-profits to
applicants. Foreign and domestic travel flourish. Over the years, as the country
grants established in 1989 removed finan- became more wealthy, the government
cial barriers for artists, and the Internet could afford to take on some of the burhas increased awareness of the opportu- den, and institutions such as the NEA,
nity to come to MacDowell. These things NEH, as well as state and local arts counhave begun to change the profile of the cils were established. The end results were
typical artist who can take part in residen- strong public and private mechanisms in
cies both within and outside the country. this country for supporting the arts.
From my viewpoint, the renaissance of
One result of exchange which could
programs we are experiencing now in the
U.S. may signal that conditions for artists
are once again out of balance because once
again grassroots artist residency programs
are addressing a void of support not being
filled by society. It is no surprise to anyone
who follows the arts that the number of
government grants to individuals and organizations that support new work has declined while the number
of practicing artists has
grown.
My most interesting
discovery at the Res Artis
meeting was that most of
the new residency programs started outside
America are privately
funded and that their
founders are seeking advice from American colleagues on how to attract
more private funding.
Some of these countries,
which have traditions of
strong governmental support, are noticing its decline. Some are seeking
and finding funding from
U.S. sources because there
is no tradition of private
giving in their own countries. In order for
growth in the field to occur globally it will
be necessary to globalize the idea of philanthropy itself and to create a lasting place for
the arts in the realm of international public
policy. To do this, we will need people of
vision who believe in funding culture as
they believe in funding other societal priorities. And we will need governments to not
leave it to such individuals alone.
What will happen to the field in times
such as these? Will all these new programs
survive? The saving grace is knowing that
MacDowell was created at a time of similar duress — “from whole cloth,” as my
mother would say — and it has been able
to ride the ups and downs through wars
and depressions. In the meantime, we are
happy to count more among us in the
larger world that understand its value.
COURTESY OF THE MACDOWWELL CLUB OF GREEN BAY
R
Letter from the Director
COURTESY OF COLONY FELLOW B.A. KING
2
Band of Sisters
The Current
MacDowell Clubs
The Cincinnati
MacDowell Society
Cincinnati, OH
The MacDowell Club of
Allied Arts of Los Angeles
Los Angeles, CA
The MacDowell Club
of Allied Arts of
Oklahoma City
Oklahoma City, OK
The MacDowell Club
of Chattanooga
Chattanooga, TN
The MacDowell Club
of Flint
Flint, MI
In this, the first of our two-part series on
grassroots organizations that have been a part
of MacDowell from the beginning, we focus on
the MacDowell clubs and how they continue to
be a force for art and America.
K
aren Pinoci might not look like Marian
MacDowell, but she could be a spiritual
descendant. Having co-founded The New
Philharmonic of New Jersey and taken on the
role of associate director and conductor, her
passion for music is quite akin to Mrs. MacDowell’s. But it is her activism on behalf of
music that is most reminiscent of the MacDowell leader: Twelve years ago, after severe
cuts were made in school music programs nationwide, Pinoci established a music education
and outreach program for grades three through
six using her orchestra. The program has been
lauded and copied throughout New Jersey; it
also won her the Woman of the Year prize from
the MacDowell Club of Mountain Lakes, New
Jersey, the same club Marian MacDowell inspired in 1916.
When the MacDowell Club of Mountain
Lakes was established, the MacDowell clubs, of
which there are currently 13, were a nationwide
phenomenon with a dual purpose: to drum up
support for the Colony and provide an outlet
for musicians to share their work and enthusiasm for the arts. An unexpected dividend of
Mrs. MacDowell’s idea, however, was the way in
which it took hold in small communities. Suddenly, art and artists were not quarantined to
cities but flourishing in such towns as Flint, MI;
Signal Mountain, TN; Green Bay, WI; and
Warwick, RI. Many women of the era, often
confined to houses, were inspired to organize
and express themselves.
Marcella Baldwin, current president of the
Mountain Lakes Club, wrote a book entitled
Willing and Able that described the genesis of
their organization and its tradition of social
philanthropy, musical and otherwise. “The
club has been so important to me,” she says.
“We contribute to the local symphony, we support young artists, we find community programs to help….” Her club and others have
also focused on conservation, women’s rights,
and health care (see 100 High Street, page 11).
Margaret Nickodem, the last charter member of her club in Green Bay, WI, pictured
above in 1935, says her long affiliation with the
club stems from the community she discovered
there from the first moment. “Cecilia always
treated me like a daughter,” she says about Cecilia Rosman, the club’s founder in 1934. “Cecilia had no children, but she wanted to teach
the niceties of life, to create lasting friendships….” Though the friendships were born
out of music appreciation, they quickly deepened and galvanized members into putting
their energies behind additional causes. Like
The MacDowell Club
of Green Bay
Green Bay, WI
The MacDowell Club
of Mountain Lakes
Mountain Lakes, NJ
The MacDowell Club
of Providence
Providence, RI
The MacDowell Club
of Signal Mountain
Signal Mountain, TN
The MacDowell
Ensemble Chapter of The
MacDowell Colony
League
Ogden, UT
The MacDowell Music
Club
Willowcreek, OK
The Marion Musical
Literary Club
Bella Vista, AR
The Milwaukee
MacDowell Club of
Wisconsin
Milwaukee, WI
For information on contacting the
clubs, please call our New York
office at 212.535.9690.
Events
4
iving…
T
he MacDowell Colony offers artists a place of beauty and
inspiration that nourishes the creative spirit. MacDowell
charges no residency fees and must raise funds to underwrite
the costs of fellowships for some 240 artists annually. Gifts
from the Colony’s friends, Colony Fellows, and the general
public are essential in helping us continue our mission of the
past 95 years: to provide gifted artists with uninterrupted time
to create, a private studio, and a stimulating community of artists working in
diverse disciplines.
Annual gifts are directed in their entirety to support the residency program
at MacDowell. Your contribution can
honor or memorialize a loved one, or
provide a special gift for any occasion
throughout the year. The gift of an Annual Fellowship will underwrite the costs of one or more residencies for up to two
months during the current year, while the gift of an Endowed
Fellowship will provide support for one or more artists at the
Colony each year in perpetuity. Your annual gift entitles you to
membership in The MacDowell Circle. All contributions are
fully tax-deductible to the extent provided by law and will be
recognized in the Colony’s 2002-03 Annual Report.
To make a gift to MacDowell, including year-end gifts
postmarked by December 31, 2002,
please use the gift envelope bound into
the centerfold of this newsletter, contact the Development Office at
212.535.9690, or visit our web site at
www.macdowellcolony.org. Your support of The MacDowell Colony is
deeply appreciated.
Brooklyn Bridged
Reunited in New York
By Julia Jacquette, President, Fellows Executive Commitee
I
n October, more than 100 MacDowell Fellows
gathered to enjoy one another’s company, and
to help make future residencies at MacDowell as
efficient and enriching as possible. An annual tradition, the Fellows Reunion Party raises money
that directly benefits MacDowell Fellows. This
year, the party was held at the Elizabeth Harris
Gallery in Chelsea,
which generously donated its space for the
evening. The gallery's
current show featured
paintings by Colony
Fellow Julian Hatton.
MacDowell Fellows,
M
ore than 40 people attended the Fall Salon Evening, Across the River
and Into the Lofts: Brooklyn Now, at The Judith Rothschild Foundation in New York City. Board member Robert Storr led the wonderful conversation with Colony Fellows Dana Kane, Jimbo Blachly, James Esber,
and Glenn Ligon (pictured left to right). We are grateful to Harvey S. Shipley Miller, trustee of The Judith Rothschild Foundation, for generously underwriting the evening; the participants for donating their time and talent;
and the Salon Committee members Katie Firth, Wilder Green, Carol Sutton
Lewis, Stephanie Olmsted, Ellen Oxman, and Eileen Wiseman.
MacDowell Goes to Boston
O
ver 50 guests enjoyed the
2002 MacDowell Evening
in Boston, which was held in
May at the home of board member, photographer, and Colony
Fellow Olivia Parker and John
Parker. Board President Carter
Wiseman introduced Colony
Fellow Lewis Hyde (pictured
right with Carter Wiseman, far
right), who discussed his recently
published book, The Essays of
Henry D. Thoreau (North Point
Press, 2002). Violinist Laura
Bossert and vocalist Marion Dry
performed Letters (three fragments from the letters of Emily
Dickinson) composed by Colony
Fellow Arlene Zallman (pictured
right with Olivia Parker, left).
BOTH PHOTOS LISA DAHL
Karen Pinoci, co-founder
of the New Philharmonic
of New Jersey, and the
MacDowell Club of
Mountain Lake’s Woman
of the Year.
their New Jersey counterparts, the club found
more and more ways to make a difference in their
communities. For Nickodem, it is the scrapbooks
they made for homesick servicemen during WWII
that she recalls fondly. And the fundraisers for hospitals that also proved crucial during those years. In
most cases, these clubs were composed of women
of vision who remained undeterred by the work
their visions required.
Karen Pinoci is one such woman. “It’s been
proven many times that the arts are integral to a
child’s development. I want music to have an important place in kids’ lives so it’s passed on and
there’s a generational cycle. My students might become doctors, lawyers, or corporate executives,
but with arts education, they’ll be able to turn off
the television and discuss music.” Pinoci’s elementary program has spread across New Jersey, and
she is developing a pilot program for middle
school. Hers is a commitment Mrs. MacDowell
would likely salute. “Through musical education,
music evolution gets pushed; people know that if
technology never moved, it would die. It’s the
same thing with the arts.”
The Colony itself has always thrived on such
pushes, spiritual and financial, and the MacDowell
COURTESY OF KAREN PINOCI
continued from page 3
clubs have often been the ones with the strong
arms. Stacey Woolley, the president of The
Cincinnati MacDowell Society, says his club will
be 90 in 2003, and its history with the Colony has
made it the most generous of the active clubs. “We
exist to support Peterborough,” he says unequivocally. Woolley shares the view that these kinds of
organizations are intrinsic to art’s survival. “Our
club has you get your fingers dirty to keep art active and vital.” One of Woolley’s main goals as
president is to enlist the young. Like Pinoci, he believes there is a direct correlation between the involvement of the younger generation and the arts’
ability to remain culturally relevant. “Our club is
trying to get a little more youthful. You can’t overstate the social significance of that.” To that end,
the Cincinnati MacDowell Society has also created a program that awards grants to young artists.
The way in which these clubs cross-sect age,
gender, and geography is finally their greatest
legacy. America’s arts organizations have always
aimed to be as democratic as its system of government. In the spirit of equal opportunity, what
could have become an enclave of elitism has not.
And in this way, the MacDowell vision on the 450
acres in Peterborough has resonated nationwide.
“I’m a blue-collar guy,” says Woolley. “But I’m invited into the homes of blue-blooded families,
families of all kinds. These clubs inspire people.”
STEVE TUCKER
Band of Sisters
5
Above: Writer and
National Book Award
Finalist Jacqueline
Woodson.
Left: Sculptor Alan
Wiener and painter
Cynthia Lin.
MacDowell staff, and friends of both were invited
to attend the event. The Fellows Executive Committee was delighted to have Executive Director
Cheryl Young, Resident Director David Macy,
and many other staff members from both the
New York and New Hampshire offices in attendance. And it is also pleased to report that, after
party expenses, the committee estimates net proceeds of $2,000.
In the past, the committee has funded the
computer/Internet station in Colony Hall, provided money for bike repairs, and has also purchased such items as a video monitor for
Colonists to display their work. Last year’s party
brought a public address system to MacDowell,
which was used extensively by Fellows during
Medal Day. At the next meeting of the FEC,
members will decide how the funds from this
year’s event will be allocated. Suggestions may be
sent to sheetcake@mindspring.com.
Board and Staff
Robert MacNeil
have a workshop production
of his play Karla at the Long
Wharf in December.
PBS re-aired documentary
filmmaker Ken Burns’ 1990
Emmy-winning series The
Civil War this fall. While the
COMINGS…
Tammy Lester, MacDowell’s newest
employee, replaced Adele Knight as the
financial administrative assistant in May.
Lester, who grew up in Hillsborough,
NH, and recently moved to Antrim, lives
with her husband, a local policeman, and
their 3-year-old daughter, Breanna. An
avid water skier and wake boarder, Lester
BRENDAN TAPLEY
Tammy Lester
and her husband can be found on
Franklin Pierce Lake in Hillsborough
perfecting their skills. Even Breanna, she
reports, has gotten into the act.
GOINGS…
MS. CLIFT COMES FROM
WASHINGTON
Peter Cameron published his
new novel The City of Your
Final Destination this past
May. In reviewing the novel,
New York Times critic Richard
Eder wrote, “Manners and
morals, a combinant phrase
long out of fashion, finds exhilarating rebirth in City.”
Finally, Alvin Singleton, composer, board member, and
Colony Fellow, was celebrated
with an evening of his chamber music at Merkin Hall in
New York City in November.
and of course, boating. Knight and her
husband, Gordon (who is easing into retirement by taking this year to wind
down at work), plan on devoting a great
deal of their work-free hours to crossing
the waterways. Having boated for more
than 15 years, the couple has their sights
on Canada first, then the southern coast
later on. What comes after is anybody’s
guess. With a 32' Carver cruiser and a
freewheeling spirit, “retiring” anywhere
just doesn’t seem on the itinerary for
Adele.
It was a great close to a great tenure
when the staff celebrated Adele Knight’s
retirement in June. Noshing on barbecue
and enjoying temperate sun, the MacDowell staff was in good spirits in spite
of having to say their goodbyes. For
Knight, who arrived at MacDowell four
years ago as a temp before her
Judy Jones Parker (left) with Adele Knight and granddaughter.
job expanded to become the financial administrative assistant,
the timing was just right. “It
was time [for retirement],” she
says without any uncertainty.
“I had wanted to do a lot of
things I didn’t have time for.”
Things like gardening, walking, serving as the chairman of
the trustees of the Dublin library, spending time with her
grandchildren (she has four),
SOUL FOOD
Newsweek columnist
and The McLaughlin
Report pundit
Eleanor Clift (third
from left) and friends
visited MacDowell’s
ampitheatre during
her stopover in
Peterborough in
August. Clift spoke
at the Monadnock
Summer Lyceum.
A
nise, purple basil, chocolate mint . . . these
are the balms for a hard day with art. Since
late April, they are also the aromatic acrobatics
greeting and soothing Colonists from Chef Christiane Smith’s kitchen.
While “organic” and “homegrown” have always been the watchwords of Smith’s cuisine, the
9' x 24' patch of earth just off the lilac garden
takes the terms to a whole new level. The garden
BRENDAN TAPLEY
Ken Burns
plans to release a film called
Horatio’s Drive about the first
cross-country auto trip in
1903. It will be narrated by
Tom Hanks.
BRENDAN TAPLEY
content of the film was not
changed, the series was color
corrected and digitally re-mastered for a better viewing experience. Next year, Burns
7
BRENDAN TAPLEY
MacDowell’s creative spirit
can be spotted everywhere
these days, especially in the
activities of the Colony’s
board members. June saw
the release of Sunshine
State, the new film by John
Sayles (Passion Fish, Matewan), which featured the
work of Jane Alexander, a
Tony Award-winner,
Emmy Award-winner, and
four-time Oscar nominee. In
November, Alexander performed in a revival of Mourning Becomes Electra at the
Long Wharf Theatre in New
Haven, Conn. Robert MacNeil, whose new book Looking for My Country will be
published in May, 2003, will
News
9.11 — COMING FULL CIRCLE
L
DAVID MACY
6
ast year, breaking tradition for the first time in close to 100 years, all
Colonists were met at their studios and informed about the tragedy of
9.11. In creating a peace circle with stones, those Colonists laid the groundwork for the anniversary ceremony this past September. Added to the stones
were flower bulbs, expertly arranged labyrinth-style by John Sieswerda and
his maintenance team. A moment of silence was observed and there was an
opportunity to share poetry, thoughts, and reflections. The ceremony closed
with a round sung by those in attendance to music composed by Dan
Welcher. The flowers should bloom by the spring and fall of 2003.
itself is a four-star spice rack — lavender, dill,
chamomile, sage, thyme, basil, among many
more — separated by flagstone pathways donated
by board member David Baum. Disappointed by
the dearth of local herbs for certain recipes, Smith
(pictured above at right) sees the garden as a working one. And it won’t end with herbs. Soon, she
plans to till adjoining soil and create a cover crop
of white rye to fertilize it. In the spring, at nearly
four times the size of the current garden, the new
swatch of earth should teem with vegetables.
Smith also aims to experiment with “hay gardening,” a new method that provides fresh produce in the winter. “You take a hay bale, hollow
it, then put compost, soil, then, say, a broccoli
plant. You water it down; the hay insulates the
plant and provides enough heat and moisture for
it to grow even in the cold months.” No longer
will a bell need striking for mouths to water.
8
MacDowell Moment
August 15, 1952
A
pparently the day was “flawless,” and in that
way proper to the occasion of Marian MacDowell’s 95th birthday, 50 years ago. Scores of
people — from Peterborough neighbors to two
Calling All Fellows . . . Spread Your Work
S
ince last summer, The MacDowell Colony has been donating
copies of books, CDs, videotapes, and DVDs to the Peterborough
Town Library. Colony Fellows are encouraged to send to MacDowell
two copies of their work: one for the Colony’s Savidge Library and the
other for the town library.
This initiative is part of MacDowell’s efforts to enrich the town
through community outreach. “For the community patron, the fact that
he or she will have access to the production at the Colony; it’s a huge
benefit,” says Michael Price, Peterborough’s head librarian. “A lot of stuff
the Colonists are doing won’t necessarily be the material that will come
across my desk in terms of reviews or requests, so we just wouldn’t have
access to it otherwise.”
The Colony and Peterborough are grateful for your participation.
New Hampshire
U.S. Senators and other dignitaries — gathered at
Hillcrest to pay tribute in word and coin to the cofounder and force behind The
MacDowell Colony.
NBC and CBS broadcasted
the speeches and the story of the
Colony to millions of listeners.
Numerous magazines published
features on Mrs. MacDowell.
Carl Carmer, president of the
board at the time, wrote, “Over
500 people came there, drawn
by affection and great respect,
to listen to tributes paid to
[Marian MacDowell] by men
and women of widely varied
interests. She knew, when she
rose to speak, not only of the
honor in which she was held
by those before her, but —
through hundreds of cables,
wires, and letters — of the
devoted loyalty of friends of
the arts over all the world.”
Carmer, who spearheaded
the idea of the birthday celebration, saw the event as a means to secure
the endeavor Mrs. MacDowell had begun at age
50 both financially and in the hearts of art lovers
from all walks of life.
According to the annual report that year, gifts
came from “every state of the Union.” They ranged
from several pennies tucked into an envelope
scrawled with birthday greetings from a five-yearold to an $11,000 contribution from the National
Federation of Music Clubs (see feature story Band of
Sisters, page 3). One woman even handed in her
pension check to Mrs. MacDowell. But money was
by no means the only gauge of the day’s sentiment.
The party continued in November at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York. It was there that Olga
Hampel Briggs, a poet, presented Mrs. MacDowell with perhaps her most eloquent and fitting gift:
a poem called “For A Lady On Her Ninety-Fifth
Birthday.” She closed the celebration with the
lines below:
To shelter them until, task done, they sped
From that beloved retreat…
Today they place their wreaths upon your head,
Their prizes at your feet!
The Spirit of Community
MacDowell Downtown
September… David Coggins
presents his exhibit Political
Dinners to an audience of 50 at
the Peterborough Historical Society. Coggins’ project at MacDowell involved photographing the dinners he shared with
local politicians during election
season to reveal the personal
and public sides of candidates.
C
olony Fellows frequently share stories about kindnesses from the local community, one of the
many pleasant surprises found in Peterborough. Time
and again, the people of Peterborough have shown a
generosity of spirit toward the Fellows, and the
Fellows have responded
in kind.
Since 1996, the Community Outreach program has presented more
than 100 artists in the
local schools. The children who live in this area
have enjoyed the opportunity to meet and learn
about working artists, a
revelation to many and an inspiration to all.
In September, MacDowell added a new facet to
our outreach program with MacDowell Downtown, a
monthly series of presentations intended to reach the
art lovers who are too old to attend ConVal.
The format of MacDowell Downtown, which
takes place on first Thursdays,
varies. Workshops, screenings,
exhibits, readings, and perform- Many have
ances are all in the planning. already told us of
And, of course, each installment
is free and open to the public.
the unique impact
Many have already told us of
the unique impact MacDowell MacDowell
Downtown has had on the community. In this section of the Downtown has
newsletter, and on our web site,
had on the
we will recap MacDowell Downtown as well as the year’s other community.
outreach efforts (see sidebar at
right). In addition, those in Peter– David Macy
Resident Director
borough may read staff member
Brendan Tapley’s monthly column in the Monadnock Ledger. “At MacDowell” appears the final week of every month and offers a preview of MacDowell Downtown as well as highlighting
other news from the Colony.
We are all fortunate that Edward and Marian MacDowell found Peterborough more than 100 years ago
and that the spirit with which they built MacDowell is
yet again finding its way downtown.
9
October… Novelist MaryBeth Hughes signs a copy of
her first novel Wavemaker II
for local writer Sy Montgomery. Hughes closed out her
recent book tour with October’s MacDowell Downtown.
The Local “Seen”
The following is a list of the most recent outreach by MacDowell artists
in the greater Peterborough area over the past six months. For further
information on upcoming events, please check our web site
www.macdowellcolony.org or write to info@macdowellcolony.org.
5.4.02
6.27.02
9.11.02
Angela Capetta and Anna
Schuleit
Puppet workshop
Peterborough Unitarian
Church
Paul Harrill
Film screening
Peterborough Library
Susan Gubernat and Mel
Rosenthal
Peterborough Women’s
Club opening meeting
The MacDowell Colony
5.15.02
Lukas Foss and Evan
Chambers
Music performance
New Hampshire
Symphony Orchestra
5.19.02
Nicholas Dawidoff
Author reading
The Toadstool Bookshop
6.27.02
Sasha Waters
Film screening
Antioch New England
Graduate School
7.12.02
Edie Clark
Reading of Monadnock
Tales
Chesham Church,
Chesham
8.2.02
Tamar Diesendruck
Monadnock Music
concert
10.7.02
Don Hannah
Playwriting workshop
ConVal High School
10.15.02
Mary Felstiner
A workshop on memoir
and biography
ConVal High School
In Their Own Words
On the Artistic Moment We Live In…
Jeffery Cotton
T
he first time my music was performed
in public I was 16. I looked into my
gut, reported musically what I found, and
received an audience’s gratitude. It was a galvanizing moment. But from that moment
forward, its influence has faded.
Recent music history has been troubled.
When I was in college in the 1970s, the
legacy of the great avant-garde still hung
over our heads, and we struggled to keep our
music as difficult and complicated as possible. Beginning in the 1980s, the charge was to
write brief, accessible works, with tonal harmonies
and slick, Hollywood-style orchestration. This
generated applause, but audiences knew they were
being coddled.
Most composers have never subscribed to either
school of thought, of course, but there is nowhere
to hide, really, when these kinds of movements prevail. Both philosophies were obsessed with The Audience, one embarrassed by it, the other presenting
it with candy and flowers. It’s no wonder that our
most important collaborators – those who receive
our works and thus complete the creative cycle –
are angered and confused. But they’re not alone. A
lot of composers are asking, what’s next?
Galvanizing moments are rare, and we all hope
September 11th remains the rarest kind of all. In
symbolism and destructiveness, 9.11 left many
artists utterly disarmed, while at the same time the
creative act became more of an imperative than ever.
But this may not be the dilemma that it seems…
I had the opportunity to compose a memorial
work for the victims of 9.11 in the days following
the attack and to hear it premiere three weeks
later. Awestruck by the scale of the destruction I
witnessed from my home, I had nowhere to turn
but my gut. What came out of this intensely personal effort was an intensely public work, and audience response has been powerful. I connected
with my listeners in a way I had forgotten was possible. But my experience wasn’t unique: Artists in
New York City and beyond, responding to 9.11,
have been rediscovering their audience in unexpected ways.
People have never wanted to connect to an artwork. They want to connect to the artist, and the
100 High Street
Martha Southgate
A recipient of many
awards and grants,
Jeffery Cotton’s music
has been performed by
the Philadelphia
Orchestra, the
Cleveland Orchestra,
the St. Louis Symphony,
the Detroit Symphony,
and the Indianapolis
Symphony. He is
currently composer-inresidence of the Bostonbased Metamorphosen
Chamber Orchestra.
Martha Southgate’s
novel, The Fall of
Rome, which she
worked on during a
MacDowell residency,
will be published by
Scribner in paperback
in January, 2003.
New Jersey Studio
artwork is merely the means to that end. We do
not need war and terror to inspire us, but as galvanizing moments go, this is one I would like to
hang on to this time. My goal is to remain disarmed and turn to my gut more often. I can imagine a new aesthetic of style and substance, where
the creative act is a joyous imperative and its own
reward. Our audiences, seeing that we’ve reestablished eye contact with them, will trust us once
again, and respond with gratitude.
W
hen I was asked to comment on the artistic
moment we live in, in this post-9.11 world,
I’ll admit to a little trepidation. My first thought
was “How would I know?” I believe that art grows
from individual obsession, even in the face of a
world-shattering event. What one always comes
back to is a slant of light, something someone said
to you when you were 12, the way your father held
a glass. Each of us knows where we were when the
towers came down, what the light was like that day,
where we were standing — yet we remain stubbornly ourselves. How can one make a unified
statement about where thousands of individual experiences, obsessions, meditations, are going to end
up in the years to come? I can’t. So I won’t try.
I will however, quote Honour Kane, a playwright who was at MacDowell at the same time I
was. She told me that of the playwrights she
knows, “Everybody’s writing as though each
sentence is their last. Everybody is really pushing the form as far as it can be pushed.” If
there is a direction that art is going in these
new, nervous times, perhaps that’s it. Perhaps
that’s our obligation, to push each of our obsessions as far as it can go, to go better than
our best, further than we ever have before. Because we don’t know when it’s going to end,
our time here. As artists, our obligation is to
treat our work as sacred, even if the rest of the
world doesn’t. Not to create that work without humor, or to become arrogant, or to ignore
the world outside us, but to know that it’s worth it
to go as deep as we can, to keep trying to make
sense of that which doesn’t make sense. That it
matters that we push it as far as we can while we’re
here. So that when we’re gone from this life, nothing we needed to say will have been left unsaid. If
we’re lucky, it will leave a little light behind.
W
BERNICE PERRY
10
alking into New Jersey Studio is welcoming, like walking into your
neighbor’s house, especially if your neighbor was that storybook
grandmother with a penchant for pie-making and rocking chair stories.
There’s a homeyness here, from the enclosed porch, which in summer
catches the slant of sundown, into the main room, which has a rocking
chair, and a brick fireplace that scents the room in wood smoke.
Many of the studio’s original features returned in its latest renovation in
2000. Windows were made more expansive at the same time they were made
weather-tight. The
solid pine flooring
was refinished. Modernizations in electricity, plumbing,
and masonry provided invisible
touches that have
made the studio
more comfortable.
And the interior, formerly whitewashed,
is softer, less glaring.
All the improvements have accentuated what’s best about the studio, and in doing so, made it one of the coziest
at 100 High Street. But don’t let looks entirely deceive. There’s also a seriousness to New Jersey, starting in its origins.
Established in one day in 1894, the New Jersey State Federation of
Women’s Clubs (see feature story Band of Sisters, page 3), from which the studio’s name is derived, united 150 women from 36 statewide clubs to pool
their influence so that they could realize bigger dreams. Their first act typified the founding spirit. Wanting to defend the Palisades from development,
the federation’s women ventured to Trenton to speak to their legislators. The
politicians, who agreed to hear them believing they intended to recite poetry,
were stunned when each of the women spoke passionately about land conservation. Their speeches resulted in establishing a park commission for the
land. Since then, the New Jersey State Federation has fought child labor,
founded Douglass College, built hospital trauma rooms for children, domestic violence shelters, and created the Girls’ Career Institute, which encourages young women to pursue what’s most important to them.
Similar to the legislators’ experience, the charter members of the federation found themselves moved to help another great cause when Marian
MacDowell spoke to the group in 1919. One year and $1,500 later, New
Jersey Studio was constructed. And they have not forgotten about the
Colony. In 1966, the federation contributed $900 to install a heating system
and new floor. In 1993, Colony Fellow Mary Higgins Clark was invited to
be their convention speaker. The famous mystery writer, who worked in the
studio in 1977, spoke about setting one of her novels at the Colony. For
more than 80 years, the federation has helped to maintain New Jersey Studio, ensuring that its history continues to play a role in its present.
11
Writer Ruth Reichl
Working in the New Jersey Studio on:
A third memoir in a trilogy that began with
Tender to the Bone and Comfort Me With Apples
Ruth Reichl, author, editor-in-chief of
Gourmet, and former restaurant critic for the
Los Angeles and New York Times is a fitting occupant for the New Jersey Studio. Passionate,
direct, and exhortative, Reichl carries on the
tradition of the New Jersey women who, in
addition to being artists, were activists. “My
mother and her generation were over-educated
and resented having to cook. They used Hate
to Cook cookbooks. It was my generation of
women who took back the kitchen. It was my
generation who also started organic farming,
the sustainable movement, pesticide-free
food….” she says. As a proud member of her
generation who believes in the primacy of
food, Reichl’s driving force operates on two
cylinders: changing how we view food, and in
doing so, transforming our lifestyle. And she is
not content to sip tea and make a show of
concern; in
fact, the white
gloves are off.
“[After]
women took
over the male
kitchens and
became chefs,
they realized
there was more
to do. And
there is more
to do. If I have
to put a cute
young [male]
chef on the cover each month to include something subversive, I’ll do it. Bit by bit, I’m
sneaking it in,” she winks.
The “it” here could be a lot of things —
writing on nutrition for disadvantaged kids,
exposing the natural food industry’s outpricing
of low-income Americans, or editorializing on
the current administration’s categorization of
ketchup as a vegetable — but one thing it
won’t be is cute.
Countdown to Medal Day . . .
“He is a loner whose incisive vision has
transformed how we see the world.”
– Philip Brookman, senior curator of photography
and media arts at The Corcoran Gallery of Art,
and Medal Day 2002’s presentation speaker
I
want to thank the staff of The MacDowell Colony for inviting us to
be here today in such a beautiful place; especially Director Cheryl Young
and members of the board of directors of MacDowell. And I want to
thank the other members of the nominating committee who made the selection of this year’s award. The committee was led by Sandra Phillips, curator of
photographs at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and also included
artists Terry Evans, Stephen Shore, and our colleague Brian Wallis, director of
programs at the International Center of Photography in New York. I know
that all of us felt quite privileged to be part of this process of awarding what is
now only the third medal given to a photographer. Our brief deliberations
grew into a really interesting discussion on the state of contemporary photography and photography’s ongoing connections to visual arts and communication media worldwide. After all, during the past 50 years photography has
changed the very course of contemporary art.
MEDAL
DAY
August 18, 2002
Medal Day,12:37 pm: Robert Frank,
honored and amused
“A biological organism which keeps renewing itself;” a “love fest;” “the
most durable currency” . . . these were just some of the phrases that described MacDowell and Medal Day to the 1,000 people assembled for
Robert Frank’s induction as the Colony’s 43rd Edward MacDowell
Medalist on August 18, 2002.
The crowd — far-flung and close by, old friends and new — endured sultry temperatures and a full tent to experience the magic of MacDowell and its annual open house. In this, our enhanced section developed to adequately capture that magic, we invite you to peruse the
photos, read the speeches, and hear from artists who felt privileged to
witness Robert Frank’s acceptance of the Medal; most of all, we invite
you to relive the celebration that has become a destination, a milestone,
and a metaphor for the place that continues to inspire so many phrases.
Our selection of photographer, filmmaker, and video artist Robert Frank to receive the MacDowell Medal emerged from these discussions. It was based entirely on
the huge impact and influence that this singular artist has had on generations of other
artists — photographers, filmmakers, photojournalists, writers, painters, and performance artists — I could go on and on. In the end there was simply no other choice. He
is, I believe, one of the most influential artists of our time, a loner whose incisive vision has transformed how we see the world.
Robert and I have known each other and have worked together, on and off, for
over 20 years so maybe I should begin by saying something about how he has
Medal Day, MacDowell’s annual open
house, is the Colony’s biggest day of the
year. In addition to the celebration of the
Medalist on Sunday, the Colony throws a
kickoff party for the artists-in-residence,
staff, and board on Friday as well as a
public presentation of the Medalist’s work
followed by a reception on Saturday. Sunday, of course, finds people from all over
gathering to hear the speeches and visit
artists in their open studios. To trace the
weekend from all points of view, follow
the photographic timeline below. It is our
kaleidoscopic view of the weekend.
Special thanks go to Jo Morrissey for her tireless
efforts in capturing these moments.
Thursday, August 15, 4:30 pm: Kitchen staff
members Anna Rosencranz and Kelsey MeuseHassinger prepare for Medal Day.
Friday, August 16, 6:10 pm: Board member
Dan Hurlin and kitchen staff member Sarah
Dell’Orto enjoy Medal Day’s kickoff cocktail
party for artists, staff, and board members.
Medal Day, 11:22 am: Robert MacNeil shares a moment pre-ceremony with
Medalist Robert Frank and presentation speaker Philip Brookman.
Friday, August 16, 8 pm: Executive Director Cheryl Young has yet another hat to wear.
Philip Brookman continued
Friday, August 16,
8:05 pm: Chairman
Robert MacNeil seals the
auctioned basket with
Colonists John Freyer and
Bobby Previte. Baskets,
which contain the lunches
delivered to the Colonists
each day, are considered
the anchor of the working
day by many and are
anticipated with great
eagerness. The auctioned
basket contained an
assortment of items
submitted by MacDowell
Fellows in order to create
an impromptu piece of art.
Saturday, August 17, 5:32 pm:
Guests settle in for the screening of
Robert Frank’s Pull My Daisy at the
Peterborough Historical Society.
Saturday, August 17, 6:43 pm:
Peterborough resident Anne Wesson
(far right) and her daughter take a
break at the post-film reception at
the Colony.
influenced me. In some ways I think it is
not so much his individual pictures or
works of art that have inspired me, but it
is the person and the fluid artistic sensibility that resides within him. I remember when I first met Robert in New York
in 1978 he held up a mirror in front of
me and asked, “Do you like what you
see?”
“Uh, like sure,” was all I could find
within me at the time, as an impressionable twenty-something kid from California. But I understood then that this mirror was a way of pointing me inside
myself to understand photography,
rather than outside to look at the people
or the streets. In his work he holds up
this mirror to the world, sometimes reflecting it back at himself. His camera
then is like a mirror, creating a new
image that is a reflection of what he sees.
At that time Robert was beginning to
explore his own life in a new way
through his art by making Polaroid photographs of the landscape and the people
around him and the little things that invaded his consciousness. And he would
print these pictures in montages of multiple images and paint on them and
write on them, saying things like “Sick
of Good-Bys,” “Look Out for Hope,”
“End of Dream,” or “Hold Still — Keep
Going.” These are objects with surfaces
and personal points-of-view, like visual
poems from the interior rather than
photographic views into the real world.
They incorporate his photographs as
well as still frames from film and video
works to move the images into real time.
They reflect back, like that mirror, not
only what Robert Frank sees outside but
also what he feels inside, through time.
They form his autobiography.
“Hold Still — Keep Going.” What
does that mean? In this photograph
these words are scrawled across a haunting image of the indistinct landscape of
Mabou, Nova Scotia, a rural fishing
community by the ocean far north of
New York City. The snow is melting off
a rock in the foreground that stands like
a frozen,
continues on page 16
W
ell, thank you very much.
Thank you for coming and thank
you for giving me such a wonderful
reception. It’s like being a star. So . . . so much
was said about me you have a pretty clear picture
of what this guy is about or what he does, so I
don’t have to go into it. And I’ll make it very
short — what I thought about while sitting here
and thought about the last 24 hours. Because I
just came back from Europe where I showed a
film, a small exhibition in the frame of a really
big Swiss national exhibition which impressed
me very much — the way they spend money
there. And no questions asked what is shown or
anything; they accept. It is quite, quite unusual.
The disregard of any possible success in whatever
they show or not show.
Anyhow, I came back here last night
and then naturally I think, “What am I doing,
you know, here and there, coming here?”
I mean, I thought I am really an outsider (other
people have said that) because you know my life,
it starts in Switzerland, and I leave Switzerland
and go to America, and then, you know, 30
years later June Leaf, my wife, and I go to Nova
Scotia and live in Nova Scotia for the past 30 or
more years, on and off, go back to New York.
My work is that of an outsider. It is maybe easy
to hide behind being an outsider. Somehow it
makes it easier. But it is somehow, I think, my
fate. I mean, I don’t belong to Canada. I have
lived there for 40 years or what but it doesn’t
have to be . . . about the stamp in your passport,
what you are. And going back to Switzerland I
felt, I’m just a tourist there. I’ve got not much to
do there really. And being in Europe and listening how Europeans now talk about the States,
which is not very positive really. Which the violence of it or the conviction of it, it surprised
me. So, I thought, if I wouldn’t have left Switzerland and wouldn’t have come to America, I
would be, you know . . . what I would be would
not be what I am now and by the generosity of
Americans, how they accept people. They don’t
ask questions. I mean it is a very generous country that I think Europeans sort of forget because
Medal Day 15
“It’s like being a star.”
– Robert Frank, 2002 Edward MacDowell Medalist
Medal Day, 11:24 am:
it is always the moment of what is going on now.
Robert Frank in an
So, it made a very strong impression and I really,
unusual position: in front
I’m not an . . . I’m an American, but it’s as I said it
of the camera.
— the passport that you carry can be changed.
And I never . . . you know, I criticize America. Often my pictures I
think are critical as you know, pictures of an outsider really but I never felt
so strong about the . . . well, what a wonderful country, and also what a
price you pay to be in America as an artist, how hard you have to work.
They don’t give you nothing for nothing. So, I must say this is a very good
moment now. Quickly after I thought about that — you know, I don’t think
that much — I thought a lot about myself. That’s really what I wanted to
say because I feel that very strong. And also when I hear the speaker talk
about what I did through all this. It has to do as an artist with taking risks, I
mean, as a photographer. You have to take risks to be, to follow your own
intuition, not to follow your own brain maybe, but just to follow your own
intuition and stick to it.
But . . . so that’s really all I have to say. That’s really all, and I thank
you very much for coming here and honoring me this way. And all the people here, so it’s a good day for all of us.
16 Medal Day
gleaming sentinel above the water, the horizon far
in the distance merging with a gray sky. It’s the
view out the window, a view of both momentary
meditation and timelessness. I think Robert understood early in his career that a single photograph could not represent real life or record the
truth about something seen. It could be a record, a
document, a metaphor, a fragmentary statement
standing in for something else, but it could not
encapsulate the concept of real time, that is, how
we live our lives.
After all, a photograph records the moment
when the present becomes past, but that moment
is always changing and we “keep going.” The present becomes then a memory that we can “hold
still,” through photography or film. “Hold Still —
Keep Going.” There is a phrase I like a lot that is
related to this idea, improvised by the actress
Nancy Fish, in Robert’s mid-60s feature film Me
and My Brother. It disrupts the idea of the single
photograph as a repository of something true. In
the film she chides the filmmaker, “Don’t make a
movie about making a movie. Make it. Forget
about the film — throw away the camera — just
take the strip — wouldn’t it be fantastic if you didn’t have to have a piece of celluloid between you
and what you say? If the eye were its own projector
instead of its own camera? I am a camera.” In other
words, one’s experience is a more accurate representation than its record or history. “Hold Still —
Keep Going.”
For more than 50 years, Robert Frank has repeatedly broken the rules of photography and
filmmaking to expand the expressive potential of
his art. Best known for his seminal book The
Americans, first published in 1958, and his avantgarde film Pull My Daisy, made in 1959, he has pioneered a revolutionary approach to photography
and filmmaking that combined autobiography,
poetry, and emotion with a logic of gritty, documentary realism. The Americans, for example,
changed photography forever, creating new expressive possibilities for all artists and inventing
new ways to see the world. He pictured 1950s
America through European eyes and showed us
something new about ourselves that shattered our
conventional vision. Younger photographers embraced Robert’s view and began experimenting
with offhanded pictures taken on the street to
Medal Day 17
Medal Day, 12:27 pm: Resident Director David Macy
speaks to the 1,000 people gathered under the tent.
I think that The Americans was so timely, that anyone
making photographic images absorbed the style and point
of view of Frank’s work. I encountered them in my first year
in college, and I always loved them, so it was thrilling to be
here when he was honored on Medal Day.
— Joanna Kiernan, filmmaker-in-residence on Medal Day
Medal Day, 12:56 pm: Board President Carter Wiseman, Cheryl Young,
Robert Frank, and David Macy at the
podium (above).
Medal Day, 12:57 pm: An eager press
corps listens to the speeches (left).
Medal Day, 1:27 pm: Bill Banks with
June Leaf and his first-edition copy of The
Americans (top).
Medal Day, 1:30 pm: Picnickers enjoy their
basket lunches on the lawn (above).
Medal Day, 1:42 pm: Frank spends time
with the public (below).
Medal Day, 1:22 pm: Board member Ken Burns
chats with Medalist Robert Frank.
Medal Day, 1:25 pm: Medal Day corporate partner
Jefferson Pilot Financial staff members and friends
celebrate Medal Day 2002: (left to right) Vincent
Bassallo, Cathy Walsh, Susan Schoenfeld, Charles F.
Stone III, Teresa Stone, Patrick Lang, Marie Lang,
Kathy Mariscal, Louis Mariscal, and Rebecca Clark.
make personal the action of
mythologizing the real world.
Frank’s
creative
voice
evolved through years of experimentation and practice, from
a series of more narrative photographic projects he completed in the late 1940s and
early 1950s. The Swiss-born
photographer had immigrated
to the United States in 1947,
and his art was transformed by
this experience. During the
next 10 years in New York he
met a number of other artists
who were working in new and
sometimes more personal diMedal Day, 12:41 pm: Philip Brookman hands
rections, including Walker over the stage to Robert Frank.
Evans, Louis Faurer, Allen
Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and
Willem deKooning, to name but a few. Between 1949 and 1953 Frank continually returned to Europe from his new home in the city to photograph in
France, Switzerland, Great Britain, and Spain. His photography grew a great
deal during this time as he developed an increasingly unique vision from his
ongoing dialogue with both European and American aesthetic and philosophical traditions. He was interested in a variety of diverse ideas, from existentialism, to Beat poetry and roots music.
I am now organizing an exhibition for the Corcoran Gallery of Art that describes this transformation in Robert Frank’s photography. In late 1951 and
early 1952, he visited London. He set out to photograph the unique atmosphere of the place, including the light, the fog, and the gritty feel of a city still
recovering from the war. He photographed bankers walking the streets of the financial district known as the City of London. As he followed the British financiers, dressed in traditional top hats and long coats, he created images that
choreograph a poetic dance between these anonymous figures and their fogshrouded environment. He also photographed workers, including men delivering coal, children playing on the streets, people waiting or relaxing in the parks
and riding the bus, and images of poverty.
Then in March, 1953, before the impending nationalization of the country’s coal mines, Frank traveled to the town of Careau in continues on page 19
18 Medal Day
Clockwise from above:
Medal Day, 1:56 pm: Future Colonists
Lauren Morrissey and Rowan Macy
Medal Day, 2:12 pm: Colony Fellow
Manil Suri opens Calderwood Studio.
Medal Day, 2:15 pm: Colony Fellow Mark
Woods hosts at Nef Studio.
Medal Day, 3:50 pm: Crowds dissipate
after enjoying MacDowell’s grounds and
studios.
Medal Day, 6:30 pm: Pizza is flown in
for the after-party.
Medal Day, 6:42 pm: Colony Fellow
Arlene Hutton and Fellow Services Assistant
Michelle Aldredge take a break.
I came to filmmaking through photography, and [Frank’s]
work continues to inspire me. I particularly appreciated his
words about taking risks. So often, the artistic practice is
romanticized and made accessible and pretty for public
consumption, and the scariness, ugliness, and challenges of
creative work are covered over. True creation is often uncomfortable, difficult, and unfamiliar. For him to stand before
an audience of 1,000 in such lush and comfortable
circumstances and remind us of these principles of artistic
practice was inspiring and honest, reminding me of my
purpose and bringing me strength for sharing my own risktaking with the hundreds who moved through my studio
over the afternoon.
— Elisabeth Subrin, filmmaker-in-residence on Medal Day
southwestern Wales to photograph coal miners
whose lives revolved around their work and community. He chose to create a picture story about
one miner and his family organized to represent a
day in their lives. When Frank’s photographs of
Ben James, a working man, were published in the
1955 issue of U.S. Camera, the magazine stated,
“In his story Frank has combined his intellectual
insights with a poetic sense of the revealing moment.” Yet when I look at the negatives, proof
sheets, work prints, and finished pictures from this
project, I find that Robert’s images subdued the
found, photographic “moment” in favor of a more
provocative form. Even though he was making a
picture story, his images of Wales sometimes look
more like informal, revealing glances than documents of an event or a moment in time. They reveal more about the people and their environment
than the work that other photographers were publishing at the time. These photographs are more
attuned to the passing of time and depict
metaphoric moments as casual, more universal encounters. They are not composed to tell us what to
think but to convey the feeling of a miner’s life
through movement and atmosphere, evoking a
kind of dailiness. At the same time, if we look at
the pictures from London and Wales together —
at this focused juxtaposition of opposing themes,
like money and work, or rich and poor — we find
a unique tension in the story. This tension activates the physical and social landscape of Britain at
that time and brings it to life, much as photographer Bill Brandt had done in pre-war England.
These two European projects completed by Frank
in London and Wales between 1951 and 1953 set
the stage for his truly groundbreaking documentary sequence of 83 photographs, The Americans,
which was completed just a few years later.
The first European photographer to receive a
Guggenheim Fellowship, Frank spent most of
1955 and 1956 traveling throughout the United
States. In his application for the grant, Frank described his project as “a visual study of a civilization born here and spreading elsewhere.” First
published in France in 1958, The Americans is
carefully structured to create a multilayered look at
important social and cultural themes throughout
the country: patriotism, race, music, religion,
money, cars, the road, etc. Critics initially were
baffled by this work for its out-of-focus foregrounds; startling, unbalanced compositions; and
strange new mood of cool melancholy. It broke
the rules. This was not the continues on page 20
Medal Day 19
When Robert Frank visited my studio this August, he was
the MacDowell Medalist, and I was the MacDowell Fellow
fortunate enough to be living and working in Nef, one of
the Colony’s photography studios. I had just turned 36; I
had decided I wanted to be a photographer when I was 22,
and from age 25 to 30, my favorite artist was Robert Frank.
Those were formative years for me, and I devoted more
time and attention to studying his work during them than
to studying work by anyone else since.
Maybe it explains how long I once waited in the Whitney Museum for one second of eye contact with Frank during an opening reception for his retrospective exhibition
there circa 1996. I did not meet him; I didn’t
even approach him. I just stood watching
him from across the gallery for a half-hour
until he looked back at me.
Six years later, he spent a half-hour in my
studio. His eyes had looked through his
camera to make some of my favorite photographs. My eyes had looked for many hours
at those photographs. Now, standing in Nef,
my eyes were looking into his eyes; his were looking into
mine; his eyes were looking at my photographs . . .
A playwright colleague of mine at the Colony this summer told me of the trouble he got from U.S. Customs while
crossing the border from Canada. “Will this ‘MacDowell
Colony’ buy your plays? Does the fellowship give you
money? Will you be paying a fee to MacDowell? Let me get
this straight: You’re traveling hundreds of miles to spend
two months writing plays in a cabin in the woods, and no
money is changing hands?”
Most people don’t understand how having the time to
work this way could yield its own pleasures, among them
the sense of participating in a long history of traditions and
counter-traditions, observations and conversations, between
generations of artists. So a studio visit from Robert Frank
mattered to me more than I can explain.
— Mark Woods, photographer-in-residence on Medal Day
20 Medal Day
BRENDAN TAPLEY
Monday, August 19, 7 am:
Monday morning, and
all is quiet.
America of Life magazine. His innovative strategies, however, captured the mood of the country
at that time. They established a visual equivalent
for his physical experience much as deKooning’s
paintings revealed his feelings through action.
Consequently, by the early 60s, The Americans was
recognized as a pivotal work in American photography, and today it is viewed as perhaps the most
significant and influential sequence of photographs ever produced. As Jack Kerouac wrote in
his introduction to the American volume, the
photographs “sucked a sad, sweet, poem out of
America . . . a sadness found in the forlorn looks
of dime store waitresses, funeral attendees, and
human faces rendered unrecognizable in the glare
of jukeboxes.” One gets the idea that if Walt
Whitman used a camera he would have made
these kinds of pictures. Frank’s proposal that the
best way to tell a story was tentative, imperfect,
and free of rhetoric became the model for future
generations of artists struggling to grip the wild
ambiguities of American culture. We recognized
The MacDowell Colony extends its warmest thanks
to the following 2002 Medal Day Business Sponsors for their commitment to the arts and their generous financial support, which helps keep
this major cultural event and annual community celebration free and
open to the public: Corporate Partner Jefferson Pilot Financial; Supporter: Orr & Reno, P.A.; Benefactors: A.W. Peters, Inc.; Citizens
Bank; Ernst & Young; Freudenberg NOK; Markem Corporation;
Melanson Heath & Company, PC; Monadnock Paper Mills, Inc.;
Public Service of New Hampshire; The Segal Company; Patrons:
Bank of New Hampshire; Bellows-Nichols Agency, Inc.; Cleveland,
Waters and Bass, P.A.; Granite Bank; Timothy Groesbeck Builder;
Jack Daniels Motor Inn; Peterborough Camera Shop; Sim’s Press Inc.;
Sterling Business Print & Mail; The Toadstool Bookshops; White
Mountain Investment; Yankee Publishing Inc.; Friends: Barn Door
Video Productions; Fiddleheads Café; and Kingsbury Corporation.
ourselves in the pictures, which again became like
a mirror held up to society.
After the success of The Americans, Robert
Frank turned to filmmaking, with a true understanding that the single image did not resonate
with the feeling of his own experience. He realized
that the illusionary nature of the photographic
medium often presented more questions about the
truth of images than it answered. His first film,
Pull My Daisy, transformed a story by Kerouac
into visual free verse, hinged on the writer’s narration. This film brought a Beat sensibility to the silver screen, proposing that everyday life is important and, given the awareness of its beauty, could
even be art. Robert has now completed over 20
films and videos; the most recent premiered in
Switzerland just a few days ago.
Robert Frank once told an interviewer, “How I
live, that is my politics.” In other words, the content and the meaning of his ideas are very much
connected to his life. He does not separate the
two. He has shown me, and many others, that art
could be personal and that we could make something truly universal from the small details and escalating emotions of our lives.
In his work, Robert always confronts what is
there in front of him, in relation to memory and
history, and he is always reevaluating the shifting
landscape that confronts him. For example, in his
1993 video Fragments, he recorded reptiles in the
Cairo zoo — a really sad looking place by the way
— and juxtaposed these images with an old piece
of film he shot in the early 70s. It shows a frenetic
man running back and forth washing car windows
on the Bowery in New York City. The phrase “I
am looking for words” is superimposed over this
scene. The combination of images and words
seamlessly connects the man on the street in New
York to the caged animals in Egypt. This creates
that feeling of timelessness and that shaping of atmosphere and geography that is also there in the
best of his photographs from London and Wales,
made in the early 50s.
In his 1985 video, Home Improvements, Robert
points his camera out the window in front of his
New York home, looking at the trash blowing
down the street. He says, “It’s cold. It’s Christmas
Day.” And I’m thinking of Kerouac when he said,
“Being famous is like old Christmas wrappers in
the wind blowing down Bleecker Street.” And
here we are now in New Hampshire, far from that
cold wind, ready to bestow this honor on Mr.
Robert Frank, to add to your collection of old
Christmas wrappers, and to thank you again for
your inspiration.
From May to October, 2002, The
MacDowell Colony welcomed a
total of 120 artists from 22 states
and five countries. This group included 59 writers, 31 visual
artists, 16 composers, eight filmmakers, five interdisciplinary
artists, and one architect.
Laura Andel, composer
New York, NY
Donald Antrim, fiction writer
Brooklyn, NY
Christopher Armijo, sculptor
Providence, RI
Craig Arnold, poet
Princeton, NJ
Robert Auletta, playwright
New York, NY
Tina Barr, poet
Memphis, TN
April Bernard, poet
New Haven, CT
Sarah Braunstein, fiction writer
Provincetown, MA
Ellen Brooks, photographer
New York, NY
Open Studio
Poet Christian Wiman
“T
he god might come to you, but he
might destroy you doing it,” says
Christian Wiman, a 35-year-old native
Texan with a propensity for thoughtful
pauses and quiet cadence. His subdued manner seems to contradict his work, which is
not composed of quiet power at all but striking imagery, deafening music, and what he
calls “annihilating experiences.”
“[My work’s] about the idea of absence,
bringing absence into your life…turning
what could be an annihilating emptiness
into a positive space,” he says. Suicide, the
loss of God, and violence are examples of
those annihilations, the kind of destructions
Wiman speaks of in divine terms, as though
the god most suited to invite inside was the
destroying kind. “I remember a story my
family told me about my great-grandmother
and how her breast cancer got so bad that
when she was in church one day, her chest
began to bleed.” He also talks about a friend
who, in a hunting accident, shot his father in
the face; the same friend ended up fighting a
man to death outside a bar as an adult. For
Wiman, who was raised in a fundamentalist
Christian household, the line between an ecstatic experience and one that brings you to
21
your knees is very fine. And he prefers it that
way. These experiences are “the most intense
experiences we can have.” And because these
experiences can uniquely speak to something
beyond an individual’s life, something more
universal, Wiman believes poetry and the
artist can benefit immeasurably from them.
“You have to try to find some way of including [annihilating experiences] in your life…
I think poetry can do that.”
Jason Brown, fiction writer
Tuscon, AZ
Rebecca Brown, fiction writer
Seattle, WA
Angela Cappetta, photographer
New York, NY
Lynn Cazabon,
mixed media artist/photographer
Baltimore, MD
Lenora Champagne,
interdisciplinary artist
New York, NY
Jennifer Chang, poet
San Francisco, CA
David Coggins, photographer
New York, NY
Clockwise from top left: Laura Andel, Donald Antrim, Craig Arnold, Lynn Cazabon, Sarah Braunstein, Robert Auletta.
22
Open Studio
Sculptor/Painter Jane South
J
ane South does not want a reality check,
thank you. And she’ll extend the same
courtesy to you should you find yourself facing her work. “I’m interested in enveloping a
person in that other reality. Art is like a little
space in the world to be in another reality.”
Lately, South’s realities have taken on large
spaces, the most recent at MassMOCA in
North Adams, MA. There, South created a 100' corridor that seamlessly
weaves sculpture and drawing into the building’s own structural idiosyncrasies (electric
outlets, pipes, etc.). At the end of the corridor,
animated drawings unspool on monitors, acting as a kind of “incentive to make the journey” down the space or alternate reality.
South’s journey has been a long one, too,
and one obsessed with the contradiction between intellectual realities and emotional
ones. Starting as an academic because it was
not “all right to go to art school,” she found
herself working in set design after college.
But her creativity could not be smothered
no matter how hard she tried. “Britain operates on this stoic level,” she says about her
homeland. “I really did everything I could
not to do art. The arts were all about selfindulgence to me.”
The key word here is “were.” Since moving to New York in 1989 and starting with
portraiture, then moving on to massive industrial sculptures (“At least if it’s manual
labor, you can justify it,” she quips), South
has allowed herself to indulge.
“Art is as necessary as sitting outside on a
nice morning…there is definitely a relationship between going to church and going to
the gallery.”
Marsha Cottrell, painter
Kathleen George, fiction writer
Brooklyn, NY
Pittsburgh, PA
Angie Cruz, fiction writer
Gary Giddins,
New York, NY
Joseph Curiale, composer
fiction/nonfiction writer
New York, NY
Westlake Village, CA
Andrew Ginzel, sculptor
Gregory D’Alessio, composer
New York, NY
Lakewood, OH
Monika Goetz, sculptor
Jordan Davidoff, poet
New York, NY
N. Tonawanda, NY
Arielle Greenberg, poet
Jean Day, poet
Dedham, MA
Berkeley, CA
Linda Day, painter
Sacramento, CA
Tory Dent, poet
New York, NY
Elizabeth Duffy, sculptor
Brooklyn, NY
Stephen Dunn, poet
Frostburg, MD
Steve Erickson, fiction writer
Topanga, CA
Christine Evans, playwright
Mark Greenwold, painter
Albany, NY
Sharon Greytak, filmmaker
New York, NY
Susan Gubernat, librettist
Oakland, CA
Katrine Guldager, poet
Denmark
Don Hannah, playwright
Toronto, Canada
Michael Harper, poet
Providence, RI
Providence, RI
Evan Fallenberg, fiction writer
Paul Harrill, filmmaker
Kefar Harde, Israel
Knoxville, TN
Mary Felstiner, nonfiction
Diana Hartog, poet
writer
Stanford, CA
Monica Ferrell, poet
New Denver, B.C., Canada
Open Studio
Writer Jill Nelson
I
t is perhaps a paradox: to write a memoir
about community, a writer immerses herself in isolation. But it’s clear in talking with
Jill Nelson that it was the right choice. Her
memoir about growing up in New York and
Martha’s Vineyard took off at MacDowell.
The author of such fiery books as Police
Brutality and Volunteer Slavery: My Authentic
Negro Experience, this book has a different
intention. “There will be photos, maps,
recipes…I’m calling it a narrative-driven
scrapbook. It’s an expansion of what I’ve
been doing with identity, but this is about
relaxing into identity.”
Nelson regards Martha’s Vineyard as a
unique microcosm of America, a place where
Native Americans, British explorers,
Methodist settlers, and African-Americans
all found their voices, often in spite of the
larger world and opinions that prevailed a
few miles away. Braiding that history with
her own, Nelson wants to show how island
living exemplifies true community and how
disparate cultures have found and continue
to find commonalty in such a setting. “The
passage to an island sandblasts you, washes
away the sins…you have to pull together because it’s not easy to get off. An island turns
23
you inward because that’s your immediate
support system. [People take care of each
other] because if something happens to you,
the hospital is 45 minutes away. People raise
money because if you want to read books,
you can’t wait for inter-library loan,” she says
in slow crescendo.
Then, in the spirit of the new book, she
sits back, relaxes, and smiles. “You know, I
know more people on the Vineyard than I
do in my apartment building in New York.”
John Haskell, fiction writer
New York, NY
Oakland, CA
Richard Festinger, composer
San Francisco, CA
Stuart Flack, playwright
Chicago, IL
Judy Fox, sculptor
New York, NY
Nell Freudenberger,
fiction writer
sculptor/mixed media artist
San Rafael, CA
Rachel Hoeffel, playwright
Brooklyn, NY
Karen Houppert, nonfiction
writer
Brooklyn, NY
New York, NY
Mary-Beth Hughes,
John Freyer,
Brooklyn, NY
Iowa City, IA
Joshua Fried,
Clockwise from top left: Marsha Cottrell, Jordan Davidoff, Judy Fox, Andrew Ginzel, Kathleen George, John Freyer.
Tanya Hastings,
fiction writer
Lance Hulme, composer
Pfinztal-Woschbach, Germany
Barbara Hurd, nonfiction writer
Brooklyn, NY
Frostburg, MD
Clockwise from top left: Mark Greenwold, Sharon Greytak, Katrine Guldager, Lance Hulme, Tanya Hastings, Michael Harper.
24
Open Studio
Filmmaker
Jennie Livingston
I
f one were to find a single theme among
many in Jennie Livingston’s work, it might
be the clash between who we want to be versus what is foisted upon us, a particularly resonant issue in America where “re-invention”
is the watchword and one can ostensibly be
anything one wishes. For Livingston and her
films, that uniquely American promise is not
so simple.
“You’re born into a system,” she says, “and
you’re either comfortable conforming to that
or you’re not. And if you’re not, how do you
find experiences or sustenance in a world
that’s pretty rigid?”
In her most famous work, Paris Is Burning, which won Sundance in 1991 and
earned her a flood of critical praise, Livingston intercut the fantasy lives of drag
queen competitors in New York with scenes
of their real-life poverty and street life disquietude. In Who’s the Top?, one of three films
she worked on at MacDowell, she treats the
same theme, but the trajectory of the story is
more personal. In focusing on a female couple, one of whom wishes to spice up their relationship with more exotic intimacy and
one who does not, she explores the most private theater an individual has to try out a different identity and asks if the way we identify
ourselves in the context of partnership can
ever change.
“Sex is rarely about sex. To me, sex is
about two things. [The first is] about creating a home and love with someone. But it’s
also about having an adventure, stepping out
into the world.” The compatibility and divisiveness of those two forces is what obsesses
Who’s the Top?
But what lurks larger is another question:
Why, as members of a country that greatly
esteems self-invention in all areas, do we
often run from it in love?
Arlene Hutton, playwright
Chiori Miyagawa, playwright
New York, NY
New York, NY
Catherine Ingraham, architect
Joan Murray, poet
Brooklyn, NY
Old Chatham, NY
Tamiko Kawata, sculptor
Lior Navok, composer
New York, NY
Boston, MA
Anna Keesey, fiction writer
Eileen Neff, photographer
Portland, OR
Philadelphia, PA
Joanna Kiernan, filmmaker
Jill Nelson, nonfiction writer
Brooklyn, NY
New York, NY
Suki Kim, fiction writer
Amy Newman, poet
New York, NY
De Kalb, IL
Christopher Koep, painter
Kevin Norton, composer
Hampton, NJ
Daniel Koontz, composer
Southampton, NY
Michael Korie, librettist
New York, NY
Jan Krzywicki, composer
Philadelphia, PA
Heidi Kumao, interdisciplinary
artist
Ann Arbor, MI
Paul LaFarge, fiction writer
Brooklyn, NY
James Lapine, playwright
New York, NY
Zoe Leonard, photographer
Brooklyn, NY
Leonia, NJ
D. Nurkse, poet
Brooklyn, NY
Tarik O’Regan, composer
Surry, England
Michael O’Reilly, filmmaker
Philadelphia, PA
ZZ Packer, fiction writer
Pacifica, CA
David Petersen, filmmaker
Brooklyn, NY
Bobby Previte, composer
New York, NY
Claudia Rankine, poet
New York, NY
Open Studio
Composer
Spencer Schedler
C
onsider this: A 28-year-old composer
who just won the 2002 Aaron Copland
Award found music through busking. Yes,
busking, otherwise known as street entertaining. Spencer Schedler, who has also been
a woodworker, carpenter, and miller, was a
busker throughout the United States and
Europe before recently becoming a MacCraken Fellow at New York University’s
School of the Arts.
“I left for Europe with $100 in my pocket
and returned with $120,” he says. While he
admits to not being musically literate until
his twenties, Schedler has clearly made up
for it with hard work and an intense commitment to music. He thinks of music as an
infinite amount of choices, which are then
eliminated with each note, only to then reveal other infinite possibilities. It is no surprise that an orchestral piece based on the
work of 18th century haiku poet Yosa
Buson, his project at MacDowell, presented
him with the right musical opportunity.
“Haiku is very austere with smooth lines and
clean textures, but it’s also very abstract;
music can reflect all that,” he says.
Not bothered by his unusual training
25
ground — “Music wasn’t a first language for
me; it was a second, but I think it’s good for
a composer to have an accent” — Schedler
enlists his diverse experiences in his compositions. A former student of physics and current one of aikido, he says both these have
given him science and discipline, two qualities innate to music. As for the busking…its
legacy is clear: The Latin root means to look
for and to gain.
Ruth Reichl, nonfiction writer
New York, NY
Micah Lexier, sculptor
New York, NY
Rosemary Rodriguez,
Bei Ling, nonfiction writer/poet
New York, NY
Boston, MA
Mel Rosenthal, photographer
Mike Mandel,
New York, NY
mixed media artist
Watertown, MA
Amanda Schaffer, poet
Jaime Manrique, fiction writer
Spencer Schedler, composer
New York, NY
Mona Marshall, painter
Austin, TX
Manuel Luis Martinez,
fiction writer
Clockwise from top left: Tamiko Kawata, James Lapine, Micah Lexier, Chiori Miyagawa, Jaime Manrique, Bei Ling.
filmmaker
Brooklyn, NY
Greenwich, CT
Anna Schuleit, sculptor/painter
Lenox, MA
Laura Schwendinger,
composer
Bloomington, IN
Chicago, IL
Valerie Miner, fiction writer
Lizzie Scott, sculptor/painter
Minneapolis, MN
New York, NY
Clockwise from top left: Kevin Norton, D. Nurkse, Tarik O’Regan, Laura Schwendinger, Claudia Rankine, David Petersen.
Atlanta, GA
Jean Berger
Amie Siegel, filmmaker
On May 28, 2002, Jean Berger,
noted composer and four-time
Colony Fellow, died in Denver,
Colorado. In addition to being a
composer, Berger was a conductor, musicologist, and professor at
the University of Colorado at
Boulder, Middlebury College,
and the University of Illinois.
During his career, he also
founded the John Sheppard
Music Press. As a composer,
Berger is best known for his vocal
music, particularly Brazilian
Psalm (1941). He was 93.
New York, NY
Susan Silton,
Los Angeles, CA
Jane South, sculptor/painter
Williamstown, MA
Elisabeth Subrin, filmmaker
Brooklyn, NY
Manil Suri, fiction writer
Silver Spring, MD
Sean Sutherland, playwright
Queens, NY
Anna Von Mertens, sculptor
Berkeley, CA
Lawrence Warshaw, painter
New York, NY
Sasha Waters, filmmaker
Iowa City, IA
Londa Weisman, sculptor
N. Bennington, VT
Dan Welcher, composer
Bastrop, TX
Alan Wiener, sculptor
Brooklyn, NY
Lex Williford, fiction writer
El Paso, TX
Christian Wiman,
nonfiction writer/poet
Lynchburg, VA
Mark Woods, photographer
Brooklyn, NY
Gregg Wramage, composer
Brooklyn, NY
John Yearley, playwright
Brooklyn, NY
Chantal Zakari,
mixed media artist
Clockwise from top left: Laurence Sherr, Elisabeth Subrin, Sean Sutherland, Rosa Shand, Chantal Zakari and Mike Mandel, Sasha Waters.
Watertown, MA
Ralph Shapey
One of the most noted contemporary composers, Ralph
Shapey, died on June 13, 2002,
at the age of 81. Shapey was
born in Philadelphia and credited an early brush with death as
the main reason for his musical
success. Two weeks after his
birth, he was struck with double
pneumonia and his parents were
advised to have another child because they did not expect him to
survive. “It has always been a big
surprise to me that I am alive.
And I have always had to battle
twice as hard because I had to
battle not only for life, but I had
to battle death as well.”
Shapey’s “battle” took him far;
he earned numerous awards, including a MacArthur Fellowship,
the George Gershwin Award, and
election to the American Academy and Institute of Arts and
Letters and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. A selfdescribed “radical traditionalist,”
Shapey wrote more than 200
compositions and founded the
Contemporary Chamber Players,
a music ensemble dedicated to
performing 20th- century works.
In 1991, he retired from the University of Chicago but continued
to conduct the Contemporary
Chamber Players until 1994 and
compose original music until his
death. Shapey was in residence at
MacDowell five times. He is survived by his wife, Elsa Charlston,
their son Max, and two grandchildren.
Patricia Mangione
Nine-time Colony Fellow and
painter Patricia Mangione died
in March, 2002, at the age of 85.
Mangione, whose paintings had
been exhibited widely in galleries, also showed work at the
Museum of Modern Art and
Smithsonian Institute. Throughout her work, Mangione was described as having “visual refinement;” one critic even
characterized her paintings as
“color-stimulated ecstasy.” Mangione was married to noted
writer Jerre Mangione, also a
MacDowell Fellow, who passed
away in 1998. For those who
share the Mangiones’ desire to
support the continuing work of
senior artists and writers at
MacDowell, contributions can
be made to the fund in their
name.
Fred Rochlin
On June 22, 2002, Colony Fellow Fred Rochlin died in Santa
Monica, Calif. He was 78.
Rochlin had been to the Colony
twice and was known for his oneman shows recounting his experiences in WWII. In 1998,
Rochlin performed Old Man in a
Baseball Cap: A Memoir of World
War II at the B Street Theater in
Sacramento and received glowing
praise from New York Times cultural critic Bruce Weber. He
wrote, “The monologue…has
the elements of an epic…and
ultimately, the fortuitousness of
survival.” Rochlin was past 70
when he began performing, but
following the Times’ review, he
Jean Berger
was invited to stage his work at
such venues as the Mark Taper
Forum, the La Jolla Playhouse,
and the Coronet Theater. When
asked what lured him to the theater, Rochlin replied, “I think
one of the most generous things a
person can do is share themselves
wholeheartedly with another per- Ralph Shapey
son.” Rochlin was actually encouraged to apply to MacDowell
by Colony Fellow Spalding Gray
who taught Rochlin in a workshop. He is survived by his wife;
daughters Judy, Davida, and
Margy; son Michael; and three
grandchildren.
BERNICE PERRY
goal, however, Buffalo Soldiers could have a
limited power. In creating a novel, she has
incorporated the universality of struggles not
restricted to history. Her notions of the
American quest are front and center. Identity, self-invention, and the evolution and
definitions of democracy all find their way
into the novel. The inspiration for Buffalo
Soldiers may have emerged from the author’s
“lifelong love of history,” but for Packer, its
inevitable success as a novel lies in its examination of an often unquestioned American
mythology.
COURTESY OF RALPH SHAPEY
“E
ngland has Arthur; America has the
West,” Packer says plainly, as though
the two mythologies have always been
linked, as though her plain tone did not belie
the profundity of such a statement. But it is
Packer’s audacious re-interpretaion of the
West that bodes well for her forthcoming
novel Buffalo Soldiers. And for her readers.
The book’s setting is the mid-19th century, during the Indian Campaigns, when
the Ninth Calvary, an elite group of soldiers
consisting mainly of dispossessed Southern
blacks, was given the charge of rounding up
and placing Native Americans in reservations. The Buffalo Soldiers, as they were
known, faced an unusual dilemma: enslaving
another race after liberating their own.
Packer explores this conflict through a multiplicity of voices and journeys that canvas the
range of people involved in this forgotten period of American history. “There’s a disconnect with history, but the ways things were
then really inform how they are now.”
There’s always a certain power in exposing
history, particularly one so ingrained in
American identity. But Packer’s novel requires that we enrich that history with the
truth. If revisionist history were her only
Laurence Sherr, composer
BERNICE PERRY
Writer ZZ Packer
Remembering
Spartanburg, SC
Patricia Mangione
Emily Genauer
Emily Genauer, the noted art
critic and Pulitzer Prize-winner
for criticism in 1974, died on
August 23. She was 91. Genauer
had a long and distinguished career as a critic, championing
20th-century painting and sculpture for such newspapers as The Fred Rochlin
New York World, The New York
Herald Tribune, and The New
York World Journal Tribune. In
addition to her residency at
MacDowell in 1981, Genauer
was also a member of the National Council on the Humanities from 1966 to 1970. She is
survived by a sister, daughter,
Emily Genauer
and two grandchildren.
COURTESY OF FRED ROCHLIN
Open Studio
Rosa Shand, fiction writer
BERNICE PERRY
26
27
The MacDowell Colony was
founded in 1907 by composer Edward MacDowell and Marian MacDowell, his wife. A year-round retreat for writers, visual artists,
composers, filmmakers, architects,
and interdisciplinary artists, the
Colony’s mission is to provide an
environment in which creative artists
are free to pursue their work without
interruption. Colonists receive room,
board, and exclusive use of a studio.
The sole criterion for acceptance is
talent, as determined by a panel
representing the discipline of the
applicant. The MacDowell Colony
was awarded the National Medal of
Arts in 1997 for “nurturing and
inspiring many of this century’s finest
artists.” Applications are available
from either the New Hampshire or
New York addresses below, or at our
web site: www.macdowellcolony.org.
Chairman: Robert MacNeil
President: Carter Wiseman
Executive Director: Cheryl A. Young
Resident Director: David Macy
The MacDowell Colony Newsletter is
published twice a year, in June and
December. Past residents may send
newsworthy activities to the editor in
Peterborough. Deadlines for inclusion are April 1 and October 1.
For timely updates we encourage
Colonists to post their news and
events on the Calendar section of our
web site.
Editor: Brendan Tapley
Design and Production: Jill Shaffer
All photographs not otherwise
credited: Joanna Eldredge Morrissey
Cover photo: Republished with permission of Globe Newspaper Co.,
Inc., from the September 2 issue of
The Boston Globe, © 2000
Printer: Sim’s Press
Untitled (drawing number 2), mixed media, 2002, by Jane South. See Open Studio, page 22.
100 High Street
Peterborough, NH 03458-2485
Non-Profit Org.
U.S. Postage
PAID
Permit No. 11
Peterborough, NH
No part of The MacDowell Colony
Newsletter may be reused in any way
without written permission.
© 2002, The MacDowell Colony
The MacDowell Colony is located at
100 High Street,
Peterborough, NH 03458
Telephone: 603.924.3886
Fax: 603.924.9142
Administrative office:
163 East 81st Street,
New York, NY 10028
Telephone: 212.535.9690
Fax: 212.737.3803
Web site:
www.macdowellcolony.org
E-mail:
newsletter@macdowellcolony.org

Open Studio - The MacDowell Colony

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