Cello playing with Bread & Puppet can take place in a chair, or creeping, hard-hatted, on a dirt floor, being attacked by animals.
Lubberland, 2005. Photo by Jack Sumberg. O, where is Lubberland?
I sometimes get taken over by Mr. Schwartz, Leon Schwartz, who made his literary debut in Insect Dreams as Schwartz C. (for comma) Leon, Gregor’s seatmate on the train to to Los Alamos.
Mr. Schwartz sniffing around French literature
Mr. Schwartz celebrating St. Francis’s 800th birthday at Bread & Puppet. There are 800 candles on that cake.
The floor by the bed is stacked with piles of books. Until they get put away, they are like a diary, reminding me of where I’ve been. Some of the juxtapositions are alarming.
This is the sign that hung on our house, and was trucked around to various locations -- until it was stolen off the porch for the second time (see blog entry “The Need Not To Know”). We figured this was a war of attrition we could not win, since the signs were 50 bucks a pop plus several days work. So we now have cardboard signs with changing numbers which can be easily replaced. A war of attrition they can’t win.
Our house in summer, and an overpass in winter.
Planning guerrilla theater event in the old days.
Planning an UBU event with Sam and Mark Kerson, at which my 4-year old son got arrested. Photo by Wendy Davidson.
Playing clarinet in a London performance of a Bread & Puppet Insurrection Oratorio. That’s Peter Schumann conducting.
First reading of Julius Marantz at the Burlington Book Festival, Sept. 07.
We’ve been vigiling Monday - Friday, 5-5:30, every day since September 13, 2001. I think we must have clocked more person-hours than any other local demonstration in the country. That’s my wife, Donna, to my right.