Juneteenth 2020

The Civil war goes on.  The Black Lives Matter a movement

that never stops—the killing of George Floyd a short time

ago by a blue-suited policeman kneeling on George Floyd’s

neck (as the whole nation watched)

brings us back to these words: “I can’t breathe”

—this phrase represents the call of the Corona-19 Virus-victims

“I can’t breathe”. 

Black people-people of Color-people who are Other

(all struggle to breathe in this “yet America”)

 —it was 2 years until the slaves in Texas

received news that they were free—June 19, 1865.

Today we celebrate and note this day in history—

as we search for freedom and liberty for ALL.  

People are still being bought and sold—slavery is alive and

well….we need reform and re-imagining. 

2020 is pushing us all to think of everything 

all at once— 

And asking that a new way be found

—the old normal is not good enough to return to

—no not now—not never, 

Cultural Commerce are two words that I have trouble linking together. Now that the novel coronavirus has come to live in our land of milk and honey it seems that there is a conflict of interest in these 2 words living together. Linking money with culture is always limiting. Art being the driver of economics is rife with problems. Culture and art are products of thinking and the results of handiwork….not necessarily the desire to make money—most of the things I have made cost me time, space & cash.

What next is the question? We have a lot to think about and little time to think or too much time to think–or no time at all to think?–So what are you thinking? about whatever there is to think about? or do we throw up our hands and surrender–but who shall we surrender to? lots of thoughts roll around in my head like a failed pin-ball machine –the only light left that never stops blinking is the one called “TILT”

Democracy is Inconvenient

As the COVID-19 Virus pandemic continues

to invade our landscape—so do the future

plans to keep us forever in our spaces—

the announcement of Gov. Cuomo’s 

“SCREEN NEW DEAL” as  Naomi Klein

writes about this plan on the INTERCEPT

site May 8, 2020—is about the increase of Amazon,

Google, FaceBook —the Gates/the Schmidt’s

are all lining up to figure out a way to keep

us in jail—because democracy is inconvenient.

We will leave this crisis the worse for ware if

we do not sharpen up—and sit up and pay

strict attention to what is happening—we will

be assigned to sit in front of computers for

health, education, banking, and more—

it sounds like the death knell for the live arts

that is for certain and we will be forever

apart and never together again.  The

big men are meeting now right here in

the Governor’s office to plan our future.

Perk up. Dystopia LOOMS.

The TSL Comfort Food Project continues here at TSL. Our space which in the past was delivering independent movies, live simulcasts, live theater, and more is now delivering meals prepared for the community in which we live. Our kitchen is the center of our space right now and it serves a many who desire our good food–no one is turned away. A Video produced by our neighbors at Club Helsinki and filmed/edited by Randal Martin gives you a glimpse into the work that our staff is doing to give some relief at a time of crisis–“the pandemic –in the time of COVID-19”.
https://youtu.be/SRGsXyl3DQw

TSL goes Virtual with the movies starting May 1, 2020. The COVID-19 pandemic continues to limit our ability to invite you into our space–so check our website for ways to access some movies we want to share with you. If you sign on and purchase a ticket it helps keep the TSL movie programs alive as well as our movie makers and distributors—AND it keeps you current with some movies we think you might like to see. Here goes. https://timeandspace.org/virtual-cinema/

THE PLAGUE by CAMUS/re-read (April 23, 2020)

Written in the 1940’s published in 1947.

This existential novel—is relevant now

as we witness our own plague in the

time of CORONA-19. The virus that

has created a large amount of death

and destruction in its path.  

THE PLAGUE

is a post- WW II-war story—as well—a metaphor

for the Nazi occupation and the terror of

that “plague”.  Camus covers all the bases

with this work—how people react at each

stage of the disease—from beginning to

the end.  It is a good read and a way to

reflect as we encounter the post-modern

plague that has come to us in the year

2019-2020. May we live to tell the ending.

Here in my own time and space I am 

watching the urge now to address some

of the devastation of the Corona-19 by

helping people survive—how to address

the sorrow and how are we to make the

changes post-plague—or will we?

the air is cleaner—the silence is refreshing

as it allows for contemplation and reflection.

But the economy is a wreck—gasoline is

not selling—perhaps we stay put for awhile

and develop our own local economies—

perhaps we don’t need things shipped all

over the world and the global is not the end

all be all for us to survive…we need  to give

the planet a chance to catch her breath

and hope for some fresh starts.

“Throwing like a girl”.

I was listening to the radio

this morning—and the men

were talking about baseball

and wondering if or when

the stadiums would open

again due to the fear of

the novel coronavirus—

then I started thinking 

about the issue of “hard ball”

and girls and how they throw

the ball and what it was like

being a girl that was raised

with a brother who was 5 

years older then me—and

what it meant to compete

and keep up if I wanted to

be part of the boys club…???

There were boys at nearby farm

-the Lindemer-boys

just a bike ride away.

The boy’s (Terry, John, Steve, & Mark)

Dad was a dairy farmer.

None of the boys wanted to be dairymen 

when they grew up so they all left the farm

and did other things with their lives—

Milking cows was not their passion—

If you were a dairy farmer you had

to love your cows.  It was a round 

the clock deal early in the morning

to late at night —7 days a week

no breaks—no vacations—just

the daily grind of milking the cows—

one can’t blame the boys for wanting

another kind of life—Harold Lindemer

even painted all the names of the boys

on the silo— (perhaps seeing their

names on that structure was a sign

that ownership was more than graffiti

on the silo and naming them did not

enshrine them to marrying the

farm—instead it was a sign that

signaled “good-bye”!!

In any event

these boys and my brother were 

my playmates (especially the 2 younger boys)

Mark and Steve—

I learned to throw like a boy

—I learned to kick the foot ball very well

AND yes I was good at passing that

weird football (shaped like a bullet)

and yes I could run and tackle —

This was a kind of training for the real world

that I would eventually face—

I learned fast because my intution 

kicked in—and said this would be

useful in the future —

Playing with the boys taught me to be tough 

and strong and not back down and stand 

my ground and keep up 

AND YES

surpass them—because in fact

i was better than they were and

was fierce and a force to be 

reckoned with—thanks to all

the boys Mark, Steve, Terry, & John

for being neighbors—boys of 

Indiana—farmer’s sons—who

left—I left too—now the fences

are gone the cows long gone—

gone are those days of early learning

the ways of the real world— when learning

the ways of the boys club were

keys to the first view of a world

that I would encounter and still do. 

The women who throw 

like a girl are not often let into 

the club—(So which club do you 

want to be let into?) that is the question?

maybe there is no club that fits one’s style??

The callous on my hands and the scuffed knees 

support the future—because the “hard balls”

still keep coming my way,

So there you are —a little story—as I remember

like Proust those days of summers and riding

on tractors—and looking at the fields that went

on forever—with little fences like lines on the

paper that haunt my pen—yes and the Allis Chalmers

tractor that I rode on with Harold as across

the field sitting on the fender–balancing on the

edge near the big wheels as we traversed the field–

images planted like Kodachrome in the minds eye–

….time passes…and so does the remembrance

of time past—what is it all about—these stories?

hmmm? just a little note—a foot note—–

April 18, 2020

April 16, 2020

What is Art.

What is beauty.

What is left of life when all is lived

We are now seeing things fall apart

it is a great time of change and 

transformation.

We fool ourselves if we think “normal”

will return—for it is not possible —

and it should not come back

otherwise why should we suffer now

and not learn from the suffering of so

many who have fallen ill or died from

the novel coronavirus?

All this loss would be a travesty 

if we did not learn or change from this

event.

The longing for normal is a fool’s errand.

What then shall we long for then?

Oh my!! lots to think about when thinking

about things is a rough row to hoe now.

We have so many thoughts now to think.

Thinking is what is necessary in this

time of silence and isolation. 

We wait for Godot now.

The existentialists have left the stage 

The pope’s shoes sit by the door

Chopin’s heart longs to beat

The Queen of England carries a purse

We watch the show fade

here in America we parade and preen

as if the market will return—

the bull is out of fashion 

and the rest is predictable—

now we sort socks, make masks

and pray for our health—

now the pandemic is our focus as

we roll the dice and wonder what next.

April 13, 2020

April Showers bring May Flowers

so the saying goes—what comes 

and goes here in the time of the

Coronavirus is this.

Jun Maeda has died from this

disease—a long time friend and

collaborator of Time & Space Limited

when we were a full time theater company

in New York—that is another thing.

Richard Gillette a good friend of TSL

and our Yoga teacher has recovered

from the Coronavirus. Time & Space Limited

is alive and well.  Claudia and Linda are

healthy AND yes careful of keeping away

from the people—so we travel between

our house on State Street in Hudson, NY

to our TSL located a block and 1/2

from our house—At TSL — we are working

on preparing COMFORT FOOD for the community.

A community that feels the strain of

isolation & limited funds—

right now we are serving approximately

300 meals a week of Comfort

Food—all prepared in the TSL Kitchen—

POT PIES and more flow out of these

doors for Pick up and delivery Monday’s

Thursday’s & Friday’s weekly — until this plague

is at bay.  I am reading and thinking—

plotting and planning as best I can—

but most of all I am living in the moment.

As for the this and that of life—I have re-read

Camus’s THE PLAGUE, James Wood’s NOTICING,

re-read Sebald’s THE EMIGRANTS, re-read

Sophocles OEDIPUS, (watched some movies)

Bresson’s A MAN ESCAPED & PICK POCKET 

Fassbinder’s 8 Hours DON’T MAKE A DAY

and more from the TSL Library…Claudia and

I are lucky—we have a great dedicated staff

of young people who have stepped up to help

keep the ship afloat—we sail on here—

It is indeed a time to reflect—see what has 

become of us and this Yet America.