Guns to Apartments

I’m still musing on how I feel about two recent tours and guns pervading every aspect of our lives.  During the Hartford Blooms Garden Tours, I went to the top of the onion-domed Colt Armory–the day after the Orlando shootings.

Having passed the notable landmark so often on the highway, I was both curious and a bit repulsed.  No one else on the tour seemed to make the connection to Orlando.  So I decided to just experience and listen, not share my dis-ease.

We took an elevator almost to the top, only having to climb one flight of stairs.  Then we walked through an industrial, attic-like area to the stairs to the cupola.

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Yes, the view was interesting, as our guide told us how Sam Colt needed the nearby Connecticut River for transporting raw materials and manufactured guns.  She explained how important the horse at the top is to people in Hartford, who clamored, when it was removed from the building, for its return.

Still, I felt restless, just wanting to go back down and get out of the building.

The fact that the factory now has been converted into apartments seems weird and ironic to me.

Who would want to let guns so palpably into the space where they nourish, refresh, restore, and relax?  Their home?

My presumptions were challenged again, with today’s tour of the International Festival of Arts & Ideas and its tour with New Haven Preservation Trust of the Winchester Repeating Arms Company.  I have been curious about this site and the transition to living spaces, curious enough to overcome my distaste.

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Yes, at its peak, 30,000 people worked here.  Yes, they produced washing machines and sporting equipment, as well as rifles and ammunition.  And yes, the factory buildings are being converted to office and apartment spaces.

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Yes, I support adaptive reuse and get excited when old buildings find new energy.  Yes, the restoration has preserved a historic character combined with modern sensibilities.  Yes, wonderful Susan Clinard has created art from the wood no longer usable, now hanging on the walls and above the old fireplace (as seen above).

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But somehow, I would rather leave the ruins (knowing that’s not good for New Haven).

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A reminder that guns are not so central to every aspect of our lives.  Or leave some of these dilapidated messes as a balance, a reminder that some things are better left in the past.

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I asked one of our guides about bad juju, cleaning the energy.  He didn’t know what I meant.  He commented on how Winchester labor and workmanship are being celebrated with new life in the old building.  They discovered and restored this ceiling mural from a 1904 wing.  Reinforcing the complex’s past.

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The apartments feature original wood with those fashionable industrial finishings.  And the place is 90% occupied.

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Obviously, many people don’t feel the same way I do.  They aren’t put off by the ground water contamination and hot spots, the lead and asbestos (remediated, of course), the years of water accumulating in derelict structures.

They can look beyond whatever history happened here and throughout Connecticut (Remington was manufactured in Bridgeport) that led to guns, guns, guns, everywhere, all the time.

Maybe I should be celebrating the conversion from guns to apartments.   I just don’t know.  What do you think?

Cooing and Wooing

The Mark Morris Dance Group celebrated a cool spring night with breezy frolic in Acis and Galatea.  To Handel’s music with the opera singers on stage and completely involved, the performance feels anything but staged-dance-y.  The movement has a naturalism that made me want to run on stage and join them in their silly and playful movements (what fun when that happens!).  Like on a playground at times and at others, like sprites in the friendliest of woods.

Here’s a taste:

Is there any more joyful end to an Act I than this?  After a lot of billing and cooing and wooing, the complex lyrics repeat, “Happy we.  Happy, happy we” over and over in the most infectious way, so that I sprang into intermission singing and gesturing along.

Wouldn’t you?  Take a listen…along with some Rococo, period paintings by Watteau:

Act 2 was witty and physical, with a gorgeous hunk of a baritone playing the lascivious monster. Somehow, even he managed to be frothy. The dancers changed movement vocabulary around him, forming more of the moving sculptures you might associate with the Galatea story.

But that would be the Greek story of Pygmalion bringing his sculpture Galatea to life as a real woman. You might have even noticed a Galatea sculpture in the Watteau paintings in the “Happy We” video.

This opera is based on the Ovid Metamorphoses edition–much more tragic when the deceased Acis is turned into an immortal stream by Galatea, a reverse on the Pygmalion story, as here the woman is the creator, not the created.

 

Happy me!

Being Shot out of a Cannon

The International Arts & Ideas Festival wrapped up tonight after 3 weeks of performances, events, lectures, exhibits, tours, and general good feeling.  My last volunteer gig was with L’Homme Cirque–the one man circus.  Combining mime, clowning, tight rope walking, and bonne amie, this circus appealed to all ages.

David Dimitri has brought his act, his tent, and his high wire with him to the U.S., starting with New Haven.  If he comes your way, don’t miss him.

I saw something I’d never seen before–a man being shot out of a cannon.  You do have to see it to believe it!

Horrors of being Stuck

New Haven was the tryout location for New York and Broadway for many years, and the city still enjoys remarkable theater.  If tonight’s experience was at all typical, then I’m in for a good ride.

As part of the three week Arts & Ideas Festival, Stuck Elevator has returned after its premiere two years ago.  Seven years in the making, the young composer and lyricist have created a riveting, unique experience, mashing up opera and hip hop.  I know, I thought it sounded pretty awful, too, but somehow this blending really worked.

Based on the true experience of a Chinese illegal immigrant called “The Take-Out Man” in a fantasy/nightmare sequence (because he is a take out delivery man), Stuck recounts his 81 hours trapped in an elevator in a Bronx apartment building.  As he becomes more delirious, we journey with him through the harrowing voyage to the U.S., memories of his family in China, and the impossibilities of his life in America and hole he all too easily dug for himself.

Gloriously sung in both English and Mandarin by the Korean-American tenor Julius Ahn, Guang broke my heart over and over.  Then at the end, when for whatever reason the elevator mysteriously began working again at 3 a.m., hunched over, he silently walks out of the “elevator” space and off the stage.  The end.  Talk about an invisible man.

The talented cast included a Latino tenor who can rap and play a Bronx drag queen and equally talented singers playing several roles.  Then there’s the embodied elevator “Otis” that takes on Guang, “The Take-Out Man” in a visually stunning wrestling match.  The percussion with chop sticks would give Stomp a run for its drumming.  All this in a tiny black box theater in New Haven.

This one has a big future.  Watch out for it.