The Stonewall riots in 1969, when a police raid of the Stonewall Inn erupted into violence and motivated a generation of activists to unite, is generally considered the launch of the modern LGBT rights movement.
A fashion event that features origami, unicorns and figure skaters gliding across the Pfister Hotel ballroom sounds like a typical Timothy Westbrook event. The Project Runway alum and former Pfister artist-in-residence has made a name both for his commitment to sustainable practices, including his reuse of discarded materials, and also for his out-of-the-box fashion show ideas. For example, Paleontology of a Woman, his dinosaur-themed fashion show at the Milwaukee Public Museum last fall, featured elaborate triceratops headpieces and garments made of plastic bags.
Lee Blessing’s play Chesapeake presents a stable of colorful characters. The challenge to presenting them all? There’s only one actor.
We’ve all done it: You’re minding your own business, walking down the street, and then you see that person from your past — ex-lover, former best friend, old neighbor who hated you — whom you’d do anything to avoid. And because you’re free, just walking down the street, you can brush right past, pretending not to see, avoiding the terrifying prospect of having to dredge up all those old memories.
The characters of Shooting Star, onstage at the Boulevard Theatre, don’t have that luxury. They’re two former college sweethearts, decades past their messy breakup, and they’re trapped together in a small airport bar by a cruel, inconvenient snowstorm that’s grounded their respective flights home. And so they’re forced to dredge up those old memories — possibly, as it turns out, for the better.
The Sunset Limited begins with a black ex-con saving a white academic from throwing himself in front of an oncoming train, only to learn that his heroic efforts are unappreciated. The play, by Pulitzer Prize-winning author and playwright Cormac McCarthy, is the latest production at Uprooted Theatre, Milwaukee’s African-American troupe.
In 1988, modernist composer Philip Glass ran into out beat poet Allen Ginsberg in St. Mark’s Bookshop in New York City. Glass had agreed to perform at a benefit for the Vietnam Veterans Theater and asked Ginsberg to accompany him.
“When you get booked for a Pops concert in the middle of February,” John Morris Russell says, “the theme seems a little obvious.”
Before Julie Tabash, Erin Gonzalez, Aaron Short and Pablo Siqueiros even sang a note the evening of Feb. 1, happiness filled the Florentine Opera Center.
You probably remember reading The lliad, Homer’s epic poem about the Trojan War, in high school. Who could forget those 15 pages of Greek generals’ names?
Budding authors are encouraged to write what they know, but such counsel often leads writers to also explore what they need to understand. For Wisconsin author Lori Matthews, personal catharsis is the seed of the narrative in October, Before I Was Born at the Milwaukee Chamber Theatre.
The simplest message often strikes the most profound chord and rings with the greatest truth. Out author and columnist Dan Savage came upon such a message in 2010 and found a way to spread the word that “it gets better” around the world.
The Whipping Man begins like a lot of other fictional works set in the post-Civil War South: The scion of a slave-holding family returns home, wounded in defeat, to find that two of his family’s former slaves are the only remaining residents of the plantation. The three spend the next few days pondering their futures in a radically altered world.