Feeling Minnesota

Pardon my relative silence on this blog, but these last couple months have been a swirl of personal and professional goings on.  The catalyst of this particular swirl is my big move northward to Montreal.  The very thought of relocating oneself geographically has always triggered in me a deeper examination of the now, a reminder to take stock in absolutely everything.

I’ve moved away from my beloved hometown for love and study.  In the fall, I’ll begin an interdisciplinary PhD in the Humanities at Concordia University in Montreal.  The thesis proposed is continued research and apprenticeship with the traditional Chinese shadow puppet makers remaining in hopes or validating their work in a broader context of China, folk arts and inherited practices as well as working towards a best practices for a living archive of their process.  It’s a five-year program.  You’re probably thinking I’m bonkers right about now.  You’re probably right.

But, these giant leaps of faith towards love and passion become a necessity instead of a choice at some point in one’s life.

So, off I went – northward into the land of maple syrup and socialized medicine.

As a little treat to myself, knowing I would be leaving so soon, I spent my last few months in Minnesota following up on a trail of Chinese shadow puppets right in my beloved hometown of Minneapolis.  Partially, to satisfy my curiosity and partially to establish a relationship should I ever be in need of a collection to study.

I contacted the new curator of Asian art, Yang Liu, at the Minneapolis Institute of Art awhile back letting him know I was the local Chinese shadow puppet hunter and I’d heard a few old rumors that the MIA might be in possession of some.  He said he wasn’t sure, but would I like to come chat with him?  Of course I would.

Yang’s office is tucked into a cozy corner of the MIA’s back offices.  His office is small, neatly kept and predictably stuffed with Asian art books.  Yang is a warm and attentive art enthusiast with nothing but helpful ideas and generosity to share with a young puppet hunter.  Within an hour of sharing stories, we confirmed that there were some puppets in their vaults and I was welcome to come take a look.

I returned on an otherwise depressing day of April snowstorms and was whisked straight away to the collections’ holding room by Ken Krenz who somehow manages to keep track of the museums countless objects.  Just being in the back halls of the museum had me breathless.  Without hesitation, he brought out a small package of shadow puppet heads wrapped in tissue paper.

 

 

 

The imbedded hair follicle pattern in this leather tells you it’s most likely Donkey hide.

The collection is miniature in comparison to some I’ve seen; a hundred or so shadow puppet heads from the Northeast region of China.  They’re most likely from the 1900s, perhaps even from after the Revolution.  But, still.  They’re always beautiful, always educational, always motivating.  I poured through them carefully, taking more nuanced notes and feeling giddy at their touch.  I also marveled at the difference in my work and level of connoisseurship compared to even six months ago.  I knew what I was looking for, what notes to take and what to snap photos of.

Because the museum has known so little about these objects, not even sure if they were Chinese in origin, I’ve offered my services in exchange for a relationship with them.  I’ll come back and check on them every now and then and offer additional information when it arises.  There is something comforting about having a place to return to and a collection to familiarize myself with in the place I have always considered my home.  If nothing else, it’s helping to preserve the things I love in the places I love.

Someday, Minneapolis, I hope I can share these and so many others with you.  You’d love ‘um.

Thanks for reading~

There’s Nothing to Tell, Again!

Hello all,

Just a quick note to say we’re remounting There’s Nothing To Tell again at In the Heart of the Beast Theatre in Minneapolis.  Original post here.  If you haven’t seen it before, we so hope you will join us.  If you have, we hope you will pass the word along to a few of your closest friends/family members/colleagues to help us spread the word.

Thanks so much!

Info below!  

There’s Nothing To Tell (没有什么可说）is a full length work for the shadow theatre that mixes traditional Chinese and North American styles to present the story of a Grandfather shadow puppeteer in China’s dying dynastic period through the Communist Revolution and into the modern era.  

 

As his only Granddaughter recounts his life story in shadow, questions arise of our place on the human continuum and the inheritance of story.

 

This production is traditionally presented in-the-round, please be prepared to move or stand throughout the performance.   

 

Appropriate for ages 8+

All tickets $5.

 

Showtimes:

·      Friday, March 15^th, Performance 7pm

·      Sat, March 16^th, Lecture/Demo/Public Workshop 2pm  

·      Sun, March 17th, Performance 7pm

·      Fri, March 22nd, Performance 7pm

·      Sat, March 23rd, Performances 2pm & 7pm

·      Sun, March 24th, Evening Performance 7pm

 

The show runs about 55 minutes.

The Lecture/Demo/Public workshop runs about 90 minutes.

www.hobt.org for more information or make a reservation at Brown Paper Tickets http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/343750

Annie Rollins, in partnership with the Confucius Institute, is a fiscal year 2013 recipient of a Cultural Community Partnership grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is made possible in part by a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board, through an appropriation by the Minnesota State Legislature and by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts

Chineseshadowpuppetry.com!

It’s been awhile since I started my initial search of all things Chinese shadow puppetry.  In 2008, I stumbled onto the subject and wanted to know more, much more.  And, like most people do when they want to know more, I went to the internet first.

After some intense google-ing, I found almost nothing, save some short introductory paragraphs and some low-resolution photos.  I momentarily assumed that this lack of information on the web was somehow a direct indication of the art form’s activity in China.  I couldn’t tell for sure, so I kept looking.

I finally found my first contact with an actual shadow puppet troupe in China through a string of connections (one of whom is now my fiancé) and even with my conversational Chinese abilities, it was another battle of logistics to get a hold of them, tell them what I wanted, raise the money to go there and actually find them in the countryside of China.

Throughout the interim five years and extended fieldwork, I have repeatedly found that this chasm between curiosity and concrete information stops most people from following through on that initial interest and I know from my fieldwork that Chinese shadow puppetry needs awareness and curiosity at this very moment more than ever.

Which brings me to my happy news:  after years as an idea, generous funding from The Walter and Mary Warpeha Family, The Chinese Heritage Foundation and the US-China Peoples Friendship Association of Minnesota and a good deal of time sitting in front a my computer – I bring you…

The first ever comprehensive Chinese shadow puppet website in English!

www.chineseshadowpuppetry.com

It is my great, if idealistic hope, that this website can be the conduit between all that curiosity and concrete information.  It is structured to grow and expand over the coming years and will evolve to fit the growing needs of those who use it.

Please, please, please share this website with reckless abandon.  Throw the Do-It-Yourself section to teachers and your children/cousins/nieces/nephews, use the handmade vs. machine made section when you go to China and want to buy shadow puppets, use the aesthetics section for all your visual inspirations, check in with the blog (which will be overlap with this one a bit, but be more directed towards events/happenings) and most of all, meet the artists that are working so tirelessly to keep the art form alive.  (If you’ve been following this blog, you’ve met them already!)

As always, I solicit your feedback in hopes of improving it wherever possible.

Thanks you, as always, for reading and may the shadows be with you!

History Repeats Itself

This past year has been an incredible mash-up of personal and professional adventures.  I’ve been able to return to China twice (a record for me) and also appreciate home more than ever.  And even though my stays at home leave me longing for the shadow puppet trail, I’ve also been able to do a different kind of searching here in America.

As part of my continued research stateside, I’ve come into contact with a surprising number of amazing scholars, students, enthusiasts and cheerleaders for the work – egging me on and keeping me going.

A few days after I landed back on US soil in December 2011, I was gifted a present in my inbox.  One Grant Hayter-Menzies, a biographer living in the west of Canada, had found me through my blog and asked if we could chat as he was in the midst of finishing a biography about Pauline Benton.  Pauline Benton, hmmm.  My mind ticked back through my dusty Rolodex of names – and – oh Yes.  I knew about her Chinese shadow puppet collection – now housed with the Chinese Theatre Works company in New York – and a few tidbits about her life, but the details were fuzzy.

We started a correspondence, Grant and I, and after an interview, chats via phone and email, I was given the opportunity to read his manuscript before it’s officially published through McGill-Queens University Press.  I can’t tell you what a dream it was to read, both for content and also for its writing.

Pauline Benton was an American Woman from Kansas, born just before the turn of last century.  She fell in love with puppetry in 1923 when she encountered her first shadow puppet performance in the courtyard of her Aunt Emma, who was then teaching in Beijing.   From there, she dedicated her life to become its lone steward in the states – the first female puppet master in the west and a collector, collaborator and creator of shadow puppet shows in her own right.  Her company, The Red Gate Shadow Players, were ambassadors for both the Chinese people and their incredible folk artistry during an ever-changing relationship to the states.

What Grant does so well with all his beautifully researched facts is make it, her and shadow puppetry, come to life.  He places her amazing story within such a rich context that you can’t help but be transported.   He takes you to Beijing in the 1920s, with all its chaos and tumult.  You also get to travel to New York in the early part of the century and around the country as a fledgling Chinese shadow puppet troupe tries to make a name for themselves despite the obvious obstacles.   Between performances at the White House for the Roosevelts and the seedy streets of San Francisco’s Chinatown, you can feel the determination and dedication of Pauline and her troupe mates.

Of all the historical books I’ve read on shadow puppetry, this is the one I will reread over and over again – if not for pleasure, then for encouragement.  To know of a woman doing much the same work nearly 80 years earlier makes me feel comforted, supported.  I’ve got company on the puppet trail.   Somehow, without even knowing much about her, I seemed to have traced much the same path and even drawn many of the same conclusions on my own.  We seem to be kindred spirits, only separated by time.   Now, I simply have to live up to the rest of the trail she blazed for a Shadow Woman.

The story is echoing a theme in my recent musings of the past years of fieldwork, driving home the fact and fear of knowing that the stories we carry die with us if we don’t share them.  Whose responsibility is it to share these?  The teller or the listener?  As I finished the Epilogue, I had a moment of panic followed quickly by gratitude.  I can already tell this story, this work, will continue to impact me for many years to come – and to think it could have so easily remained buried and eventually lost forever but for another story hunter who saw its quiet potential.

This is a book for anyone who recognizes the inherent curse and blessing in a passion you can’t ignore.

I will certainly post the book’s release on the blog!

Thanks for reading~

Shadow Woman, The Extraodinary Career of Pauline Benton by Grant Hayter-Menzies.  Due out in Fall 2013 from McGill-Queens University Press, Montreal.  Press release below.

Visit Grant’s other works here at: http://redroom.com/member/grant-hayter-menzies

Information on the Pauline Benton collection at Chinese Theatre Works: http://www.chinesetheatreworks.org/w/education/images/

China-Lite

During my Fulbright tenure, I had a few friends who took their precious two-week out-of-country trip to nearby Taiwan.  Their reports were so glowing I was suspect.  “The air!  The order!  The internet access!”, they’d exclaim.  Could it be true?  In the year that has followed my return, I’ve heard countless people recount the same wondrous impossibilities to me: “no one spits!” “I didn’t get travel diarrhea!”

Finding out I was headed there this past November to travel with the Taiyuan Puppet Company (whom I met in Beijing last year) on their Touch Taiwan project and check out the Lin Liu-Hsin Puppet Theatre Museums Chinese shadow puppet collection got me so curious.  I was going back to China, or was I?

Mainland China and Taiwan’s political conflict runs deep.  If you know anything about the Communist Revolution, then you’re well versed why.   But, it goes beyond that.  Since then, their relationship has remained tenuous at best.

I arrived on a long flight from the Netherlands and couldn’t tell quite where I was.  They were speaking Chinese, yes, but so much of what I had come to know and love about mainland China wasn’t immediately present.  There really was no spitting.  And – so. much. order.  The Taiwanese people wait in line quietly for the next subway.  These waiting lines are painted in clear pathways on the platform floor and no one is a step out of place.  (I actually butted ahead of someone, not noticing the painted lines, and got a ‘she’s from the mainland’ dig from a person behind me.)  The sense actually didn’t make sense to me.  I don’t mean to say that mainland China is only a bundle of chaos, but there is a level of unpredictability and disorder that exists just under the surface, all the time.  Adventure, good and bad, is always in the air.  Taiwan was immediately safe and knowable.

After a few days fighting off a terrible cold and flu, I finally made my way to the oldest part of Taipei, the Dadaocheng district, to meet up with the Taiyuan Theatre Company.  Here, the streets narrowed, the smells erupted and the sound pollution tripled.  I felt a familiarity in the air.  The puppet theatre resides in a cozy four-floor building and butts up next to their partner museum that houses a lovely, comprehensive Asian puppetry collection.  The entire place is a physical manifestation of my brain and heart: half practitioner and puppeteer, half researcher and archivist.  It instantly felt like home.

The office was exactly as I’d imagined – a hive of activity and laughter.  It took me but a moment to get situated, meet everyone and I spent the rest of the week working on various projects including scenic painting for their latest puppet show.

Rehearsal for their next show, with the Golden Ray style of hand puppets – which are slightly larger than the oldest form.

Scenic painting some desert rocks – in progress.

The puppet theatre

When I’m not in the workshop, I climb the rickety stairs out back to another haven: the beautifully kept puppet archives.  Inside the frosty chambers are shelves upon shelves of treasures so beautiful, I feel subservient.  You can reach out and touch them, actually touch them.  All of them, perfectly laid out on their corresponding shelf – everything from hand puppets, shadow puppets, rod puppets, head pieces, and accessories from nearly every Asian country.

They look like they’re just resting there, waiting for you to appreciate them.

I spent a couple afternoons helping the museum identify a few sets of Chinese shadow puppets and to simply spend time with the pieces.  So few collections are this close to me.  Usually, the great pieces in the mainland are behind glass and unable to be touched, others are in collections so wrapped up in red tape, I’ll probably never see them.  It was great to touch, to smell, to scrutinize in glorious leisure.

When my time came to an end, they waved me off in characteristic style.  We split a feast of food at their meeting table and shared a few gracious toasts.  I was sad to leave, but as usual, confident I’ll find an excuse to return.

As I found my way to the airport, without a hitch in the getting there, I was again made to recognize the benefits to Taiwan’s ideological proximity – somewhere in between mainland China and the west.  The collection in particular.  My inquiries of pieces, of origins, of context are met with equal interest, never offense.  The education that intimacy with the pieces brings is unparalleled.  Just as I was grateful for the opportunity here, I grumbled about the treasures that will most likely remain out of my reach on the mainland – forever.  I may spend a lifetime in service to the art form and never get a moment with the true ancestors.

Still, in some ways, I missed the fight, the adventure, the obstacles that the mainland always presents to me.  It has helped me tangibly connect with my own desire to understand and champion the art form.  So, glad for the mainland and glad for China-lite – both of which give me an different entry point into this tradition that I love so well.

Thanks for reading~

 

It’s A Small World

I first met Joanne Oussoren and Frans Hakkemars of Droomtheater in Hong Kong, where we had gathered for Mingri Theatre Company’s Puppetry in Education conference.  There, even amongst a crowd of other puppeteers, we repeatedly found ourselves in conversations.  Perhaps it was because of their similar interests in puppetry as a vehicle for passing on cultural inheritance or our shared love of ancient forms of theatre.  Most likely, I suspect is was simply their open and inquisitive nature that drew me to them.

As community artists working often in their own neighborhoods in and around the burgeoning working-class metropolis of Rotterdam, Holland, they saw added complexity to the questions we were asking about traditions, inheritance and heritage as their immigrant population continues to swell.  We went our separate ways after just a few days, looking for future ways to put our questions into practice.

Fast-forward to November 2012 and I find myself across from Joanne and Frans at the breakfast table in Holland.  We’re still heavy in conversation, but this time over toast with chocolate sprinkles and an impressive array of cheeses.  Our dream of a collaboration was made real with generous funding from both private and public Netherlands entities and we’re anxious to get started.

Joanne and Frans have envisioned a program to fully involve the children of Feijnoord (a small township in the city of Rotterdam) in a cultural story important to Holland: Sinterklaas and his carnival of animals.   I’m here to guide the creation of this story within a simplified Chinese shadow style, accessible for ages 5-14.   The children begin with shadow puppet design and creation, then rehearsal and finally a performance for the community.  By letting the children become apart of every step of the process, we believe that this will deepen the embodiment of the story and enrich the learning experience.

Of all the iterations of our workshops, the most exciting was working in Feijnoord’s private afterschool program with children ages 6-12.  The township of Feijnoord is a historically popular place for new immigrants with its low rent and convenient proximity to the city center.  Currently, 80% of the township’s population is non-Dutch, with most of the immigrants coming in from Turkey and Morocco.

The afterschool program is a rare hold over from decades past – their building awkwardly stuck right in between rows of traditional Dutch apartments.

As the clock strikes three, dozens of kids speaking a myriad of languages stream into the waiting activities of the able-bodied volunteers.  This time, we’ve got shadow puppets for them.

And while these puppets may not look anything like the puppets I’ve been researching for 4 years, they are inherently Chinese in design and engineering.  We’ve developed a simplified method of using permanent markers on clear plastic so that kids don’t have to spend five years mastering leather cutting before they can make a great shadow puppet.  The control rods and joint methods are all faithfully Chinese.  I wonder if all this newness will derail their energy – it doesn’t.  They don’t even hesitate – there is an appetite here.  They dive in, mistakes and all and create some of the most alive puppets I’ve seen yet.

I’ve often been ‘warned’ about the ‘chaotic nature’ of such groups but I never find it to be thus.  Yes, they’re awfully loud and yes, it’s hard to keep them on track sometimes, yes.  But, truly, it’s only kids being kids in the best way possible – fully.  I’m much more disconcerted when I see children so well behaved that they’re afraid to color outside of the lines.   This paralytic fear of wrongness and failure are a much more serious problem.

I could go on and on here about the necessity of arts in a child’s development and how tests and data prove that the arts help children excel in all other fields but I won’t.  I’m just going to say that at its most fundamental level, the arts erase the right/wrong binary and encourage the infinite possibilities of everything.  I strongly believe that in the near future we’re going to need more creative and empathic thinkers than good chart readers.

After just an hour and a half of managing the chaos, the kids funnel out as fast as they funneled in and for a moment we are left in the loud silence.  I am exhausted but smiling.  It’s clear that these kids, with their unflinching ability to move forward – mistakes and all – are ready for anything.   And now, they have shadow puppetry in their arsenal.

Joanne and Frans and I pack up, talk to the volunteers and smush into the van once more.  We head home for a supper of fresh Marrakech sausages from the nearby Moroccan butcher and some typical Dutch mashed potatoes and greens.  Over the fading daylight, we crowd closer and closer to the warm table lamps – preparing the next workshop’s materials and jotting down our thoughts.

They’ll continue rehearsing after I’m gone and prepare for a final performance by the kids, for the community.  The project comes full circle this way.  The shadow puppet revolution is closer than ever.

After a week or so of this routine, we catch ourselves – it seems as though I’ve been here all along, we’ve been friends all along, we’ve been doing this all along.  Weirder still is that this is a reoccurring feeling I get when connecting with fellow puppeteers around the globe.  As the web gets larger, the feeling gets more intimate.   I can’t wait to get back.

Thanks for reading~

Chinese Shadow Puppet-con

Never before have I thought about how wonderful it would be to go to something like Comic-con: a bunch of people, passionate about the same thing, there for the sole purpose of sharing and geeking-out.  Of course I had never considered the awesomeness of a thing like that because I never thought it possible that I would ever get to experience my own Chinese Shadow Puppet-con.

But I did, everyone!  It occurred and I was there!

The Ballard Institute of Puppetry and the University of Connecticut Puppetry program hosted a number of scholars, puppeteers and artmakers and enthusiasts to join in the conversation at the first ever North American Chinese Shadow Puppet Symposium, run in tandem with their Pauline Benton Chinese Shadow Figures exhibition running until December 16^th. (PS: I’ll be blogging more on the awesomeness of Pauline Benton soon!)

I expected to be inspired by the talks that were given and inspired to give one myself on my recent fieldwork, but I was surprised by just how invigorating it was to be in the same room with these people.  Usually, we research, read and synthesize in isolation.  To bring these thoughts, feelings and concerns forth to a knowledgeable and equally passionate public was nothing less than finally feeling seen and heard.  No, you’re not crazy for dedicating so much time and energy to this, and Yes, it’s as fascinating and never-ending as you’ve been suspecting.

John Bell was such a warm host along with the rest of the BIMP staff; Fan Pen Chen gave us an amazing run-down of her current research of snake cults and the legend of Lady White Snake and its evolution as a common shadow puppet story; Mary E Hirsch mesmerized us with her incredibly astute work in correcting mis-identified Chinese shadow puppets in American collections; Stephen Kaplin and Kuang-Yu Fong gave us both a great tour of their co-curated exhibition and a sneak peak at their first attempt at a one man digital shadow puppet show (which was wholly engaging); Bradford Clark told us about his recent trips to China to experience puppetry; and many other short presentations rounded out the event.

I laughed, I cried, it was much better than Cats.

Next time, I hope you will join us.

Thanks for reading~

Pauline Benton holding up one of her figures.

Stephen Kaplin giving us a personalized tour of the exhibition

Some of Red Gate Players’ beautiful show programs

Pauline commissioned some ‘newer’ puppets that would reflect the Beijing she saw at the time, in the 1930s, which included cars!

The whole crew at Chinese Shadow Puppet-con!