Learn more about Christine: What excites you about this role with The Kaleidoscapes? I'm thrilled to be a part of a smart, passionate team and contribute to eco-theatre projects for and by diverse communities. What’s your “place of significance” or an ecosystem that speaks to you and has formed you as a person? The Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia definitely helped form the person I am today. What makes you passionate about storytelling, collaboration with communities, and environmental justice? Storytelling and collaboration are the tools I've known since childhood, and environmental justice is important work that affects everyone. Follow along for more updates regarding our growing team and our program offerings. And don't forget to get tickets to our next BREAKWATER workshop!
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Get to know Lizzy: What excites you about this role with The Kaleidoscapes? This position is so exciting because it's truly a unique chance to connect art and earth. I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to explore and learn from like minded artists who trust in the power theatre has to promote environmental justice. What’s your “place of significance” or an ecosystem that speaks to you and has formed you as a person? I was born on a small beach called Baracoa in Cuba, since I could walk my grandmother would take me snorkeling every day. Some of my earliest memories are of floating underwater exploring everything the ocean had to offer. This experience completely formed me into who I am, appreciating how truly small and insignificant we are. Why are you passionate about art for social change, directing and theatre? Theatre and acting have been my glue for my entire life, and now I hope to continue to share its powers with audiences everywhere as a director. Art has the potential to change minds, to heal, and to evoke true emotion. Theatre, at its core, is a reminder of what it means to be human. What's Next? Over the next few weeks, we will be learning more about Lizzy and why we are so excited to bring her to the helm of this company.
We also have more exciting announcements regarding team members that we cannot wait to share. Stay tuned to this space and also to our Instagram @thekaleidoscapes to get the latest updates!  The Word for Woman is Wilderness
By Abi Andrews I chose this book because it’s fiction, released in 2019! The Word for Woman is Wilderness has been described in its marketing materials as “a new kind of nature writing ― one that crosses fiction with science writing and puts gender politics at the center of the landscape. Erin, a 19-year-old girl from middle England, is traveling to Alaska on a journey that takes her through Iceland, Greenland, and across Canada. She is making a documentary about how men are allowed to express this kind of individualism and personal freedom more than women are, based on masculinist ideas of survivalism and the shunning of society: the “Mountain Man.” She plans to culminate her journey with an experiment: living in a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness, a la Thoreau, to explore it from a feminist perspective. The book is a fictional time capsule curated by Erin, comprising of personal narrative, fact, anecdote, images and maps, on subjects as diverse as The Golden Records, Voyager 1, the moon landings, the appropriation of Native land and culture, Rachel Carson, The Order of The Dolphin, The Doomsday Clock, Ted Kaczynski, Valentina Tereshkova, Jack London, Thoreau, Darwin, Nuclear war, The Letters of Last Resort and the pill, amongst many other topics.” I enjoyed the way that the story is broken into smaller sections, so it’s easy to read on a commute, outdoors, or in increments before bed. I also found myself chuckling at the tone and more than once saying, “Ooooh, ROASTED” aloud from the zingers spoken by the young protagonist. I agree with reviewer Elizabeth Wainwright, who wrote in The Ecologist that “The book is built on ideas that are non-dual, vastly intersectional, and highlight the non-constant complexity of life, which cannot always be ordered, or made productive and focused.” This book is messy in the best way. It won’t give you the dopamine of instagram--it will run you around and mix you up and leave your questions unanswered. I’d recommend this book to feminists of all genders who are looking for a book to immerse them for a little while. I’d pack this book in a bag with a flashlight for a weekend with fresh air. If you would like more book recommendations about climate justice and environmental justice check out the Book Club Tab on our blog or email gail@thekaleidoscapes.org to hear more ways to get involved.  By Covi Loveridge Brannan Two weeks ago, I attended Theatre of War’s presentation of The Oedipus Project as part of The Nobel Prize Summit: Our Planet, Our Future, put on by The Nobel Foundation and The U.S. National Academy of Science. This first ever Nobel Prize Summit brought together Nobel prize winners, policy leaders, youth activists, and public audiences to strategize around how to best tackle the climate crisis in the wake of the global COVID-19 pandemic. The program featured networking sessions, scientific presentations, and a number of distinguished speakers including Sir David Attenborough, John Kerry – the U.S. Special Envoy for Climate – and Dr. Anthony Fauci. What most stuck out to me, however, was the program’s inclusion of several artistic presentations, of which The Oedipus Project was one. My first encounter with one of Theatre of War’s productions was back in the fall of 2019. On one of my first dates with my current partner, we attended a public reading of The Investigation by Peter Weiss. The Investigation is a documentary theatre piece adapted from transcripts of The Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials of 1963-65. This performance, coupled with a guided discussion around mass murder and communities affected by genocide, was riveting. I was overcome by emotion, and after quite a bit of ugly crying and digging my nails into my date’s hand, I admit, the two of us decided to leave early. I remember our subway ride back home was quiet; there was an awkwardness in acknowledging we had just shared perhaps our most intimate moment to date. It was an outing I certainly won’t forget, and do not recommend as a romantic night out, unless you are looking to fast-track the level of intimacy in your partnership ten-fold. Since that night, I have been fascinated by Theatre of War’s methodology. In their own words: “Theater of War Productions works with leading film, theater, and television actors to present dramatic readings of seminal plays—from classical Greek tragedies to modern and contemporary works—followed by town hall-style discussions designed to confront social issues by drawing out raw and personal reactions to themes highlighted in the plays. The guided discussions underscore how the plays resonate with contemporary audiences and invite audience members to share their perspectives and experiences, and, helping to break down stigmas, foster empathy, compassion, and a deeper understanding of complex issues”. And I can tell you first hand, boy, do these events succeed in their mission. Early on in the pandemic, I was thrilled to see Theatre of War’s work move online and attended a presentation of Antigone in Ferguson, a project centered on racialized police violence. Imagine my excitement then when I learned about their upcoming spot in The Nobel Prize Summit focused on environmental justice. This was gonna be good. At the time of the presentation of Oedipus The King, I was off volunteering at a nature reserve in the Atlantic Rainforest of Brazil, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from attending. So I grabbed some bug spray, camped out on the covered patio, crossed my fingers, and prayed the notoriously spotty Wifi would hold. I was not disappointed. The performers included some of my favorites – Frances McDormand as Jocasta and Jeffrey Wright as blind prophet Tiresias – flanked by a Chorus of Nobel Prize-winning scientists, Dr. Elizabeth Blackburn and Dr. Harold Varmus. It’s incredible what new insights I had while listening to this all-too-familiar play through a new lens. In the wake of the pandemic, the plague facing the people of Thebes suddenly took on a whole new weight, and, in my mind, the Sphinx’s riddle suddenly became a symbol of the oppressive curse of the capitalist system. Perhaps the most impactful part of the evening was hearing responses from five community panelists which included “two young climate activists: A poet, a farmer, and an urban grower” reflecting on what about the play resonated with them “across time”. The words of David James “DJ” Savarese, activist, public scholar, and “practicing optimist”, were particularly potent : “A few things resonated for me. One is that even if we know the future, if we take that knowledge and act from a place of fear, nothing good will come of it. That means we need to remain hopeful. Hope is not easy. It's messy, imperfect, and nearly absent from the play. What would it mean to quit gorging ourselves on fear and to live life as a meditation on hope?” Oedipus the King is a story of fear. We must not forget that at the start, Oedipus is a hero, the great savior of Thebes, yet when the curse of his birth comes back to haunt him, the protagonist falls immediately into paranoia, motivated by self-preservation. When Jocasta, his mother and wife, realizes the truth of their corrupt relations, she pleads with Oedipus: “Oh, if you care for your life, abandon This quest! The anguish I endure is enough”, implying she would rather them live in blissful ignorance than learn the hard truth–even if this knowledge has the power to end their city’s plague. Once again individualism prevails over altruism. The story of Oedipus is a tragedy because we can’t help but feel for the title character. His humanity connects him to us, the audience. Yet, in the Greek world, nature was very much a part of divinity and by that token a part of the human experience–the pathetic fallacy of the plague was beget directly by Oedipus’ actions. The theme of blindness in the play is directly connected to humans ignoring the truths signalled by nature. Why does the “blind” prophet Tiresias see the truth regarding the origins of the plague before everyone else? Because he listens to the birds. In truth, he is not the one who is blind. In the final dramatic moments of the play, Oedipus gouges his eyes out as a form of penance and asks to be exiled, thus ridding his people of “the pestilence”. While all hope seems to be lost when focusing on Oedipus’ fate, a closer reading of the play implies that altruism has, in fact, prevailed. Oedipus’ final actions save the city of Thebes from sickness and environmental destruction. With this thought, I am reminded of DJ Savarese’s final plea of the evening: “ I want us to understand ourselves as a vast ecosystem – enmeshed, entangled, and interdependent”. Viewed through this lens of interdependence is Odeipus The King truly a story of tragedy? Or rather one of prevailing environmental justice? Covi Loveridge is an actress, playwright, creative producer based out of NYC and LA. As a practitioner, Covi is committed to producing and pursuing sustainable and
eco-socially conscious work. She believes human stories and ecological stories are intertwined and values work that embraces this shared legacy of life on Earth. Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash  Welcome to Your World: How the Built Environment Shapes Our Lives
By Sarah Williams Goldhagen I have some architect friends with qualms, but for an entry-level reader, this was an interesting point of encounter about the ways that urban planning can lead the way in sustainable development. In reality, the majority of us are city dwellers! “Being green” does not mean living somewhere green. In fact, it shouldn’t mean a lot of the things we code in that language--it should mean transformation of our entire outdated energy grid and other large scale changes rather than guilt or individual-focused narratives. Take a second to think about buildings: Even as many people have quarantined in our apartment buildings or homes over the past year, there are still millions and millions of square ft of office and indoor space that have been heated and cooled. That's so. Much. Energy. Goldhagen ends her book by sharing, “For good and for ill, buildings and cityscapes and landscapes literally shape and help constitute our lives and ourselves. Designing and building enriched environments, ones that are informed by what we now know and are learning about how people experience the places they inhabit, will promote the development of human capabilities. Just as is true with regard to global warming and the earth’s environment, nearly everything we construct today will outlast us to affect those who come after us, sometimes generations and generations of them. Shouldn’t a better built environment be the legacy we leave to the world?” Luckily, there are companies already hard at work towards this goal. And organizers pushing for legislative reform. Whether you read this book or not, may we support those efforts to follow the most brilliant design plan there is--the intelligent, efficient balance of the earth itself. By Artistic Director, Gail Tierney. To learn more about joining our Book Club email gail@thekaleidoscapes.org By Covi Loveridge Brannan  As I write to you from a small nature reserve in the Atlantic Rainforest of Brazil, I find my mind aflutter with semi-formed thoughts. It is hard to recall any place more spectacular than the one I am currently spending my time in. I’ve seen bioluminescent mushrooms decorate the nocturnal forest floor; I’ve fallen into a pond searching for tree frogs no bigger than my thumb; I’ve seen a butterfly fall fast asleep perched upside-down. Here in the southwest of São Paulo state, I’m surrounded by locals who know the rainforest by birth, and biologists who know it through extensive study. Even the other volunteers — nature photographers, biology students, cannabis growers — seem eco-experts through my novice eyes. I try to shrug off the feeling of imposter syndrome as I respond (in heavily-accented Portuguese) to the seemingly simple question of what I do outside of this isolated, natural paradise: “Eu sou atriz”. “I am an actress” is a gross simplification of what I do. If I were able to articulate myself properly, I would explain that, in addition to performing, I also write plays, and produce them, that I have a masters degree, that I consider myself a real-New-York-theatre-professional. I would go on to explain that for the past few years I’ve been interested in this thing called “eco-theatre” and getting some hands-on experience at Instituto de Pesquisa da Biodiversidade seemed like a great way to give myself some credibility when it comes to the “eco” part. Behind all these accreditations and explanations, however, the truth is — despite all my post-graduate studies, despite all I’ve accomplished so far — I came here searching for the answer to a deceivingly simple question: “How do I do this?”. When you get into theatre, whether as a kid or an adult, the phrase “use what you know” is often repeated by your teachers. Theatre artists are storytellers above all else, so what better “way in” than to share with the audience what you yourself have experienced. Somehow, through trial and error and tricks of the imagination, “using what you know” becomes enough to embody Shakespearean fairies, Australian war lieutenants, and post-apocalyptic aristocrats. You can extrapolate what you know so far as to write plays about human-ghost romance, self-help cults championed by John Denver, suburban housewives succumbing to Cold War paranoia, or closeted, 20th century lesbians. Yet somehow, when it comes to talking about nature, about the Climate crisis, about why it matters to care for the soil and plants and animals that keep us alive, your mind draws a blank. A judge creeps into your inner monologue and chuckles, “Who are you kidding, Covi? You don’t know anything”. I know this isn’t true, but a lot of the time it feels true. What is it about nature that feels so foreign to my 21st century person? The truth is, consumerism, capitalism, conololism, and white supremacy have spent over a century ensuring this is so. Teaching inhabitants of Western Civilization that to be close to nature is to be “uncivilized” or “barbaric” is a key tenant of justifying the exploitation of peoples and extraction of resources that have allowed our modern day society to reach this point of industrialization. I know the history of this lie, I know the deception which has taken place, yet somehow, emotionally, I still fall for the trick. The more I think about how divorced I feel from nature, the more infuriated I get at the conditions that have made it so — the more I feel like a teenager, filled to the brim with passion, emboldened to rebel against the lies society taught me. I want to scream it in the streets and share it in my songs — well, plays — lest future generations be subjected to the same untruths I was. And so, I continue the task of reclaiming my proximity to nature. For me, that could mean something as “exotic” as digging through Brazilian bird poop looking for fruit seeds (in the name of science), or as close to home as feeling the sand between my toes on a Southern California beach. As I investigate this relationship, I do my best to share as I go. I have yet to write my first “eco-play,” whatever that means… I’m much too scared. But in the end, aren’t we all part of the same global ecosystem as the butterflies and the sandcrabs and the seedlings? Why should my story be so different from their story? Why should any of ours be? Covi Loveridge is an actress, playwright, creative producer based out of NYC and LA. As a practitioner, Covi is committed to producing and pursuing sustainable and eco-socially conscious work. She believes human stories and ecological stories are intertwined and values work that embraces this shared legacy of life on Earth.   By Covi Loveridge Brannan In Fall of 2020, I had the opportunity to research arts organizations engaging in sustainable artmaking as part of Agenda: Communicating the Arts’ inaugural 30 Under 30 initiative. My research partner, Anna Aglietta, and I had a wonderful time speaking with eco-art makers all over our assigned region of North America. This week, I am super excited to introduce 5 of these fabulous companies to you! One note before we start: not all of these companies self-identify as “eco-theatre” companies, however, they were selected based on their being performing or multi-disciplinary arts groups which engage deeply with the existential threat of climate change and other socio-ecological issues which their communities face. And we’re off…. ONE: Superhero Clubhouse
TWO:
Dancing Earth Creations
THREE: The Arctic Cycle
FOUR: Art At Work presents MAINEUSA
FIVE: EcoArts Foundation
I hope you enjoyed learning about these fabulous companies as much as I did! Stay tuned for more lists of arts organizations fighting for ecological justice through the power of performance. By Covi Loveridge Brannan  In February of 2020, American Theatre Magazine released a special issue entirely devoted to the topic of theatre and climate change. The articles discuss the ways in which theatre-making can help upset existing power structures, uplift marginalized voices, and envision paths for the future. As Lanxing Fu and Jeremy Piccard, co-Artistic Directors of Brooklyn based company Superhero Clubhouse, state in their article A Climate of Change, “Functioning as a microcosm of society, theatre is uniquely positioned to create the cultural conditions needed for alternative structures of power and economies to thrive. And because the climate crisis demands change at every level, every theatre-maker can participate by shifting our practices to center climate justice in our work, regardless of the content of what’s onstage”. But how do we do this? While creatives usually leap at a challenge, the task of pivoting to a climate just practice can seem particularly difficult to take on. From my perspective, this difficulty stems not from disinterest but from not knowing where to start. To take on these new ways of thinking and working, one must let go of past experience and enter into a vulnerable state which is open and receptive to new forms of knowledge. It is hard to be a beginner (especially as a professional practitioner) and even more difficult to undo old habits. The first step, then, is to wrap our heads around what this idea of “eco-theatre” is. With my project, On The Hook: A Climate-Conscious Exploration of Anna Christie, I set out to do just what the title suggests: explore. I am not an expert at this, if anything, I am just a curious artist yearning to make the world a better place. With the current state of our world, taking on a climate-conscious practice seems imperative in working towards a just and sustainable future for all. So, what is “eco-theatre”? When it comes to learning new things, Google is a very useful tool (though I admit that I generally use the decisively less-useful “Ecosia” as my primary search engine, since it plants trees every time I hit 45 searches). Sustainability is a hot topic in nearly every industry, and, in 2020, most adequately-funded cultural institutions are doing their part to “go green” and lower their environmental footprints. Companies like Julie’s Bicycle and Broadway Green Alliance have been doing great work with major theatre institutions to get them on track to “net-zero”, and some smaller theatre companies like Brooklyn-based Superhero Clubhouse and Earth Matters on Stage (EMoS) are taking up the mantle of “eco-theatre”, centering ecology and integrating sustainability in every aspect of what they do. But what does it take to make a theatre production “sustainable”? What qualifies as “eco-theatre”? These words are still new to me, but I am beginning to develop my own understanding. Working "sustainably" in theatre means considering the ecological, carbon, and equity implications during every step of the design, rehearsal, and performance processes. Results of this type of thinking can range from "green theater" practices, such as using LED lighting to save power or thrifted costumes to reduce waste, to adapting rehearsal strategies to better ensure equity and quality of work for those involved. So, is every production which integrates sustainable practices a piece of “eco-theatre”? Not quite. That would probably qualify as “green-washing”, a crime I believe should be penalized by public scorn and hefty fiscal taxation. To be a piece of “eco-theatre”, creators must commit to looking through a very specific dramaturgical lens: one that considers how the piece being performed converses with both environmental and socio-economic concerns. For example, while in his play King Lear, William Shakespeare frequently uses pathetic fallacy, mainly in the form of the great storm personifying the titular character’s mental state, this masterwork is not inherently a work of “eco-theatre”. Yes, in terms of text, the natural environment is directly responding to the human characters and vice versa, yet we have not quite met the eco-theatre benchmark. However, if a particular production of King Lear chose to explore more deeply the characters’ relationships to the natural environment, emphasizing these moments directorially and through design, we are on our way. If the production went a step further, digging into the “man vs. nature” imagery in the text, alluding to the socio-economic implications of King Lear arbitrarily dividing his kingdom between his daughters with no consideration for the impact on his subjects’ livelihoods, and centering the imperialist attitudes and absolute power that monarchs exerted during the late sixteenth century, then we have a piece of “eco-theatre”. “Wait!”, you say, “If that’s all it takes, then nearly every play could become a piece of eco-theatre! Pretty much every great storyteller and playwright has at least considered the relationship between the characters, society, and their environment in some way. You didn’t add anything new; it’s all right there in front of you!” From where I stand, you are absolutely correct. Humanity and their social societies are indivisible from the natural world. Somewhere along the way, Western Civilization sought to separate itself from “nature” and claim their citizens as superior to those considered “closer to nature”. They began to regard natural phenomena as “resources” to be extracted and perceive those who dwelt harmoniously with the Earth as sources of “labor” to be exploited, all of this in the name of “progress”. But, what kind of human progress should we be seeking? Artists have been asking this question from the beginning of society itself. It is up to us as modern theatre practitioners to consider the socio-ecological implications of the work we are exploring, in the name of dramaturgical integrity, truthful storytelling, and out of loyalty to the well-being and advancement of humankind. Covi Loveridge is an actress, playwright, creative producer based out of NYC and LA. As a practitioner, Covi is committed to producing and pursuing sustainable and eco-socially conscious work. She believes human stories and ecological stories are intertwined and values work that embraces this shared legacy of life on Earth.
 Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience
By Yi-Fu Tuan Today’s recommendation synthesizes a few of my areas of interest. As the 25th anniversary edition of this publication, it has already proven influential in multiple fields, including theatre, literature, anthropology, psychology, and theology. I heard about this book from Dr. Elaine James--a Christian scholar whose work focuses on the Hebrew Bible, especially its poetry. I’ve studied questions with her revolving around land, ecology, gender and sexuality. She’s a badass, and learning Hebrew was worth it so I can engage with her grapplings. I’ve studied ecological theology for three years for many reasons, some of which are still a mystery to me! Understanding the histories of interpretation for religious texts (and learning how dominant narratives are constructed and maintained) can transfer into the observation of precedent for environmental law. Developing my inner spiritual compass can help me approach land, a fiercely political topic, with humanity and love. And, of course, a desire to decolonize our minds will brush up against damaging Christian legacies of violent oppression. I’ve learned two tangible languages, Greek and Hebrew, in my graduate studies, but I’ve also gained fluency in our species-wide capacity for ritual and connection to our planet. In this book, Yi-Fu Tuan explores humans’ “exceptionally refined capacity for symbolization.” He asks, “in what ways do people attach meaning to and organize space and place?” For me, some of the most fascinating parts of the book connected to the past. He shares, “In antiquity, land and religion were so closely associated that a family could not renounce one without yielding the other. Exile was the worst of fates, since it deprived a man not only of his physical means of support but also of his religion and the protection of laws guaranteed by the local gods.” I’ve spent hours in the library, reading about meaning-making in antiquity, whether through omens and observation of the natural world, or economics, justice systems, and ethics as they’ve changed over time. Why look to the past if not to provide perspective and critical thinking about our here and now? Are we oriented, as Tuan says, to our surroundings? What does “feeling at home” mean when we are surrounded by collective grief for the impacts of the pandemic? Or ever-increasing numbers of climate refugees, climate-connected illnesses, and deaths? In a book about experiential perspective, Yi-Fu Tuan offers us the opportunity to integrate the experiences of our ancestors into our consciousness now. While reading you will be asked to consider case studies, complex questions, and, as our author beautifully articulates, “things that were once out of focus for us come into focus.” Quote: “Human beings, like other animals, feel at home on earth. We are, most of the time, at ease in our part of the world. Life in its daily round is thoroughly familiar. Skills once learned are as natural to us as breathing. Above all, we are oriented. This is a fundamental source of confidence.”  Freedom Farmers: Agricultural Resistance and the Black Freedom Movement
By Monica M. White I share these book recommendations on a schedule, I’ve been told, that no one is possibly following except for me. I read really fast. Thank you, grad school. So, you may see this title as you are scrolling through the gallery of other titles I’ve read, or months from now in a quiet moment. I’ll let you in on the secret that I plan the timing of when I share books with intention. Our author, Monica M. White, is an activist and urban ethnographer of the food justice-urban agriculture movement in Detroit since 2007, where she has worked with others to transform and rebuild a financially devastated city. She described this book as a love letter. She said it “feels like love--never easy, but worth it.” February can get a lot of hype around a certain kind of love, and I wanted to add her labor of love into the mix. In January, I took a class called Land, Food, and the Black Church with Rev. Dr. Heber Brown III. Freedom Farmers was one of our textbooks. As I approached the text this month to write this blurb, I had the joy of hearing some of the sections in his charismatic voice. These are not just words on a page anymore. They’re connected to conversations and stories that I hold with reverence from that zoom room. Here’s a few of the central concepts for you to sample: “Collective agency, a concept that I coined based upon the data for this project, involves social actors’ ability to create and enact behavioral options necessary to affect their political future.” “Community resilience, a subcategory within the burgeoning field of resilience science, refers to the various structural aspects and components of human adaptation to extreme adversity, using ‘community’ as the unit of analysis.” “Prefigurative politics begins with the awareness that members of a group have been excluded from the political process.” The book itself is full of rich stories. As the author puts it, “This book is an effort to recover, tell, and honor the stories of collective agency and community resilience of the black rural poor, a group the civil rights movement left behind.” It is also intended to “connect contemporary urban farmer-activists to an earlier time when African Americans turned to agriculture as a strategy for building sustainable communities.” I’d recommend this read to anyone with an interest in food justice, especially if you’re not sure where to start. I’d also recommend it to seasoned practitioners who are looking for a source of wisdom to fill their cup and reinvigorate their efforts. So, really, when it comes down to it, I’m recommending this book to everyone yet again. Because it’s fantastic and should be shared! Quote: “If pain was all there was, how can we explain the indigenous roots of the current urban farming movement--spearheaded by black people? If pain was all there was, why should black people voluntarily return to a form of work that produced exploitation and oppression--so much so that it forced people to flee from the South?” Join the discussion in The Kaleidoscapes Commons. |
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