Welles’ distinct baritone washes over me, his jocular haughtiness, his masterful control of narrative and punchline. Just as he’s mentioning how proudly uneducated he is, I find myself thinking of an interaction I had outside the theater on the previous day. A young woman who works in the box office named Samantha caught me to pay a compliment. She said “I can only imagine what your training must be”, to which I replied “I never went to college, I grew up here, my father was an actor in the company.” Now I think it might have sounded like a boast, but that’s not how I meant it. What I was trying to say – what I wish I’d said was: “I didn’t go to college, I apprenticed myself here at OSF.”

I’ve been very lucky. I grew up in dressing rooms, backstage and in the booth, watching rehearsals and playing with Ben Nye bruise wheels and stippling sponges since I was very, very young. When I skipped out of Bennington after just 3 months to do Idiot’s Delight at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, I received no real pushback from my artsy parents. The theater was calling, I had been promised an apprentice’s stipend, and I had everyone’s blessing in pursuing the opportunity.

And I believe, having started in this way, that if you really want to do this, you can learn the ropes without putting down tens of thousands of dollars for a higher education. Primarily watching, listening, being in the company of actors and theater artists. That’s what I did for 20+ years at OSF and elsewhere. It seems to have worked out, as it did for thousands of actors over thousands of years before educational institutions (corporations?) began selling the lie that they know best how to prepare a person to do what we can all do naturally – think and feel.

It's a message I’d like to spread, but I’m wary of being irresponsible. How many theaters these days will take a chance, however small and spear-holdery, on someone who hasn’t been through a professional training program? OSF doesn’t do it anymore, and in fact they only used to offer apprenticeships to Southern Oregon University students here in Ashland. They made an exception for me, because my father was an actor in this company. And there’s the NEPOTISM I’ve been trying to justify with hard work my whole life. The word blinks on and off in ten-foot-tall neon in my mind’s eye.

So it’s complicated.

But wouldn’t it be a way to pay back my good fortune if, one day, I could take on an apprentice myself? I’d invite them to come with me to rehearsal, observe backstage, understudy my parts. Learn by doing, in a real, professional theater…

Orson is still going on, now about Cornelia Lundt (I make a mental note to look her up, it sounds like her life is the stuff of a musical), and now about how Churchill once helped him get a film financed. It feels like coming home, listening to him talk. He reminds me of Ken Albers, the person to whom I really apprenticed myself.

A giant of the theater (and Wellesian in stature), a rarity who could direct and act with equal genius, Ken would pace back and forth in the moat of the Elizabethan theater, chain smoking and bellowing notes of pure gold. He took me under his wing. He kissed me on the mouth every chance he got and it never bothered me. He got me drunk on deliciously strong margaritas and told me stories of going up sky high and breaking and backstage shenanigans. He gave me encouragement and advice and a geode, flattering me by saying it was like what I’d done with a bit part in his adaptation of The Visit – taken something rough and unremarkable and turned it into a gem. I keep the stone on my dressing table wherever I’m staying when I am working on a play.

Our short documentary Bear People is an Official Selection of the Tacoma Film Festival, October 9-13th!

Bear People started out as a simple oral history project. Our original aim was to collect the stories of environmental activists attending a Grizzly Bear conservation event in Idaho in the summer of 2023. Three subjects volunteered to sit for interviews with Kevin, and everyone seemed to have a great time. 

A year later, while cutting their interviews together, we began to realize that a narrative was suggesting itself. Around the same time, we learned that footage of the events described by our subjects was sitting mostly ignored in the Internet Archive. The real kickers was that most of this footage was shot by folks we know, including our pal Mike Mease of Buffalo Field Campaign, and Kevin's late friend Ritchie Doyle. In addition, the Earth First! Journal Archives, digitally housed within the Environment and Society Portal of the Rachel Carson Center, backed up our subjects' stories with articles and images written during the Cove-Mallard Campaign, a major topic of conversation within the interviews.

Suddenly our first documentary short was coming together as if by magic. 

The FilmFreeway page for the project is here, and our quick trailer is below. Thanks to old pal Megan Isser and new friend Gary Kout, who are connecting us to the film community here in Ashland and advising on putting a Digital Cinema Package together for Tacoma. We're grateful to TFF to be able to bring these stories to a wider audience in the Pacific Northwest, where our subjects' Actions contributed to the preservation of the Cove-Mallard Roadless Area in the 90s. 

Our Special Boy has passed on. He went naturally and quickly in our home, in our arms, on the morning of June 18th. As Kevin said, quoting a friend, "he taught us how to love." Gently and steadily. We hope to embody his lesson and carry it forward.

Oh how we miss him. And how lucky we were to have him in our lives for as long as we did.

Run on, Wilton -- in the wind, the flowers, the bees, the trees...

According to Criss Austin's article referenced above, Todes Muhlen or Die Todesmühlen (the original German version) was "written and directed" by  Hanuš Burger (or Hans Burger if you're looking at IMDB). At the time the film was made, Burger was 36 years old. Online English-language sources are rather thin, but there is a German article from the DEFA-Foundation on his fascinating, brave life here. What follows is a brief recap:

Born in Prague in 1909, Burger relocated with his family to Germany when he was 11. In Frankfurt am Main he graduated high school and quickly ditched a shoe-making apprenticeship for the theater. There his interests in design, dramaturgy, directing and writing flourished. In his early 20s he worked professionally as a dramaturg, stage designer and theater director, also penning plays and at least one screenplay. He mingled with left-wing actors and co-founded a Bertolt Brecht club as well as a club for Czech-German stage employees. He explored the experimental theater scene, was active in the Czechoslovakian Communist party, wrote articles about his experiences in theater, became the editor of a journal, and worked under a pseudonym as a courier to Berlin.

At 29 Burger collaborated with American documentarian Herbert Kline on Crisis (1939), a film documenting the 1938 German Reich's annexation of Sudetenland,  Czechoslovakia, and the resistance response that followed. After the footage for Crisis was shot, Burger participated in smuggling it out of Czechoslovakia. The film was completed in New York in 1939, and swiftly named best picture of the year by the National Board of Review. One of the first anti-Hitler documentaries ever made, Crisis has since been restored by the MoMA and is available for purchase on Blu-ray with a short clip online here.

After fleeing Europe in 1938 Burger taught at NYU and continued to make documentaries. An application to the US army was initially rejected because of his known communist activities, but he was later drafted and served overseas in the Propaganda and Psychological Warfare Detachment. He eventually turned his experiences with the army into the non-fiction novel 1212 Sends. After winning an Academy Award for his documentary short First Steps in 1948, he continued to direct throughout the 1950s and 60s, even as he left America to avoid scrutiny by HUAC. In 1965 he helmed the feature Nichts als Sünde (English title: Nothing But Sin), a musical adaptation of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, which he had originally directed for the stage. He was still working in television as late as 1977, and died in Munich in 1990 at the age of 81.

And after typing all that, I still think it doesn't do justice to what I read in the DEFA-Foundation's article about Burger. Let's just say he was an artist, an activist, a teacher, an army man, an ex-pat. An enfant terrible, a polymath. A virtuoso.

And yet, Billy Wilder is "often credited as the director of the English version" of Death Mills, according to Criss Austin. Also according to Austin, it's likely that Burger and Wilder collaborated on editing Die Todesmühlen, although the DEFA article suggests that Wilder was only brought in later to supervise. The internet is a bit murky on how the two really partnered up for Death Mills. Perhaps it's covered in a Wilder biography, or perhaps it's in the ol' memory hole. Billy is known to have travelled to and served in Berlin at the close of WWII "as a colonel in the US Army's Division of Psychological Warfare charged with helping to assess and rebuild Germany’s film industry," according to this paper. He was also on a personal hunt for information about his mother, grandmother and step-father, all of whom lost their lives to the Nazis' juggernaut.
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As for the footage in Die Todesmühlen, Austin asserts that it was taken as "a record of events, for troop education, use in war crimes trials, and for other educational purposes."

Like teaching those of us privileged not to know, what genocide really looks like.

Death Mills is relentless and hallucinogenic in its brutality. It is a parade of human skeletons, some living, some dead, some somewhere in between. Orphans raise their sleeves to show tattooed identification numbers as a voiceover intones that many of them have forgotten their own names. Death chambers abound. Despicable signage. Vats of wedding rings, watches, dentures and gold fillings, ripped from their owners' hands, wrists, mouths. Piles upon piles upon piles upon close-ups of faces in piles upon piles of corpses. So many heaped dead that I found myself choking on demented near-laughter -- how can this be real, this is absurd, a trick of the camera, there can't possibly be that many bodies, it must be fake.

It's not fake. This is real news, baby. It all really happened.

This morning the Universe bestowed an expected blessing to break up the last 48 hours of stark raving dread: "Love! Hope! Peace" has been nominated for a Native American Music Award (aka Nammy). Producing/directing this video was an honor, and Kevin and I are so happy for Jan Michael Looking Wolf and Native Rose. 

When Jan composes, he channels. As he's described it, the music and lyrics 'arrive' from somewhere else, somewhere Sacred. My wish now is that the sacred message in "Love! Hope! Peace!" reaches more folks who need it through this nomination. The inclusivity of that message, coming from one whose People faced a violent genocide just a few generations back, blows me away. And really: is the current state of affairs any wonder when the leaders in Washington do not -- have never -- openly and widely acknowledged that this genocide was foundational in the construction of our fine "United States of America"?

Longer conversation for another time, perhaps.

"Love! Hope! Peace!" was shot entirely within the traditional homelands of the Santiam Kalapuya people (Jan's tribe). The interior concert footage was taken at the PRAx on the Oregon State University campus in Corvallis. The exterior shots were done on location at Minto-Brown Island Park in Salem, OR. Jan Michael Looking Wolf is an OSU professor, a United States Army veteran, and a Kalapuya Elder active in the governance of the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde.
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Busted out a couple of yarn-forward sea cucumbers on a recent trip to LA. Special thanks to Mom for the materials and puppeteering, and to Bud for her whimsical under-the-sea set, art supplies and camera work. Shout out to Ezra Severin for jaw harp and mixing on "Bug Boy Blues", an original tune I composed back in 2020 for Junebug's Corner. I think it suits Cute Cumber and Gherkin just fine too!
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,In 2016, my best friend and I manifested the inner infant of Donald Trump and took it across the country. It was initially her idea, and I was, initially, skeptical. Ultimately it's been one of the grandest adventures of our friendship. 

We had been working on a Youtube series about two bumbling, would-be new age influencers who were also possibly lovers for half a year when it became clear that Donald Trump was going to become the Republican candidate. Other than voting and complaining to friends and family about whatever the current cause celebre/ Right Wing gaff might be, I had never been politically involved. So "reparenting" a miniature Donald Trump effigy in a live, performative, comico-political action was daunting. But Manda was game, and since 2004 wherever Manda led, I followed. And I'd never regretted it.

I was living in Los Angeles and she was in Grants Pass, OR, so the initial build of the voodoo doll fell on her. As she sent me footage of the process, I warmed to the idea. It was just so WEIRD. And, oddly, it started to make sense. When we took the doll to the Jackson County Fair together in the summer as a sort of test flight, I was amazed by the instant chord it struck. We were fully in costume and character, and I wore Donald in a DIY-constructed front pack so that he was in the vanguard everywhere we went. And people WANTED to engage. We filmed various interviews that day and got some great one-liners from folks who clearly had a lot of deep feeling about what was going on in Washington. The doll seemed to disarm them, allowing them to speak freely and from the heart. I started to develop a sense of pride around the project; I was letting my freak flag fly in a way that challenged me as an artist, and, maybe more importantly, I was engaged in real political activism for the first time. Because Manda had dreamed it and we'd built it out together, it was an activism that felt organic, artistic and productive.

We ended up filming with Baby Don Don in Los Angeles, Washington DC, New York (we actually took him into Trump Tower and no one stopped us) and Las Vegas. I soon learned that some folks who came in for a closer look would quickly scurry away when they 'got' it -- MAGA supporters, I assumed.  They showed us their backs, but they were never mean.

I've navel gazed over the years, returning to watch these videos somewhat regularly. I didn't do much to personally promote them when we were making them. We had a dedicated Youtube channel, Facebook page and Twitter, but I never claimed Wanda Ann Pollard (my character) in a meaningful and outright way on my own puny social media. I'm a bit ashamed now to admit the reason: my folks didn't respond to the material. Now, eight years on, I have some ego strength and distance from my particular parental enmeshment in the 2010s (my husband jokingly characterizes some of my family's dynamics as "Southern California Gothic"). I'm hip to the truth that while my parents have generally good taste, they are not the Arbiters of it. And I'm allowed to be as loudly proud of the bizarre world of Wanda Ann, Chastity and Donald as I actually am.

Kevin and I were grateful to attend the White Buffalo Calf Ceremony and Gathering of Nations on June 26th, as part of the Buffalo Field Campaign's media team. We used footage we captured with BFC's Brand and Social Media Coordinator Chuck Irestone to create the cut above. Speakers included:

Lee Juan Tyler (Chairman, Shoshone-Bannock Tribe)
Develynn Hall (Miss Shoshone Bannock)
Ryman LeBeau (Chairman, Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe)
Darnell Sam (Wenatchi Salmon Chief, Colville Confederated Tribes)
Michael Bearcomesout (Sacred Hat Keeper, Northern Cheyenne)
Vincent White Crane (Sundance Priest, Northern Cheyenne)
Walks Out of Water/Devin Oldman (Northern Arapaho)
James Holt, Sr. (BFC Executive Director, Nez Perce)
Mike Mease (BFC Co-Founder)

The ceremony was presided over by Chief Arvol Looking Horse, the 19th generation C'anupa (Sacred Calf Pipe) Keeper of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe. Buffalo Field Campaign's press release about the ceremony can be found here.

See BuffaloFieldCampaign.org for more information on this organization's 27-year mission to defend the wild buffalo of Yellowstone. 

Kevin and I were in Portland over the weekend attending a wedding dinner for my Uncle Mark and his wife Lily (and Mazel McTov to them!) which meant I got to visit the Portland Puppet Museum. Even roped my sister Anna in too! We spent almost two hours in the single-room museum in wonderful delight as founder Steve Overton regaled us with stories, building techniques and demonstrations. I never imagined Steve would be on site to show us around and boy are we lucky that he was. The museum is an unimaginable treasure trove, but I think Steve himself is the real gem of the collection.

​From their joints to their controls, their facial expressions to their elaborate costumes, Steve’s puppets are stunning. And his ability to create so much in such a small space is a miracle. But above all I was struck by his boundless generosity. He was willing to share so much knowledge while also celebrating the prowess of other puppeteers. Steve brought out marionettes by Phillip Huber and Mary Nagler and we all ooh’d an ahh’d, even as his own brilliant creations looked on from their strings. This generosity is a striking phenomenon to me in my (admittedly recent) dive into puppetry. I’m not sure if it’s because there are so few practitioners anymore, but I’ve experienced this communitarian attitude in other instances – like at the Bob Baker, where video recording is encouraged (a boon that allowed me to figure out how to string my puppets to blink on an airplane control), and with Joseph and Wilma Cashore, who graciously entered into a correspondence with me and even gifted me Joseph's DVD. Similarly, Steve was an open, joyous book. He didn’t mind me taking photos or videos, asking weirdo questions or for him to repeat a name or piece of information – he just wanted to talk puppets. To share what he knows and what he’s done. And the stories are delicious. Just ask him how he ended up John Ritter’s body double in Skin Deep.

On October 27th, 2023 Kevin and I received a call from our friend Jan Michael Looking Wolf. Jan wanted to know if we'd be willing to come to Eugene in November to shoot live footage of his new musical project Native Rose. Kevin and I looked at each other, blinked a few times said "Yes" in unison. Jan had no idea we'd just returned from the Missoula County Courthouse where we had quite literally just gotten married. The offer felt like the Universe's wedding gift to us. Or Jan's. Or both.

We shot with three cameras: two GoPros on tripods and a roaming iPhone. We learned a lot (especially about the importance of correct lighting settings on any camera being used in a dark concert hall and certain pitfalls of "cinematic" mode on iPhone15). Mostly we had an amazing time basking in the music and the excellent energy of everyone in attendance; it was a beautiful night and we were so honored to be a part of it.

Editing "We Can Live As One" over the past weeks has been a welcome chance to relive the magic of the concert and the power of One Heart.  May the performance bring you the hope and peace it did for us -- and hayu-masi to Jan, RG and the Native Rose Band!