is a work in progress featuring the
tender lunacy of
Scott Heron's dance paired with elegantly skewed electronic
art songs performed live by Brooklyn's Corey
Dargel. There will also be a new short super-8 dance horror
film by Thomas Little and Scott Heron.
Scott Heron has been dancing and making dances for 20 years.
His work has been presented all over downtown New York and he received
a New York Dance and Performance "Bessie" Award in 2003. Longtime
collaborations include work with Circus Amok of Brooklyn, Hijack
Dance of Minneapolis and Deborah Hay Dance Company of Austin. He
currently calls New Orleans home. He has shown work the past two
years with Tsunami Dance and runs the Sidearm Gallery and Performance
Space on St. Roch Avenue. For more information or to contact him,
Dargel is a composer, performer, and lyricist whose electronic art songs have
established his reputation as "a rising master of the postmodern
love song" (Kyle Gann, ArtsJournal.com). Dargel's music has been
performed in New York at Joe's Pub, Cornelia Street Café, Crobar,
The Knitting Factory, Galapagos, TIXE a chashama art space, and
The Marquee; and in Cleveland at Speak in Tongues; and he is currently
a 2005-2006 Artist-in-Residence at HERE Arts Center in New York
Bizarro presents a preview of their upcoming piece inspired
by the late local poet, who during his tumultuous life published
several collections and in 1979 helped start the Sunday poetry readings
at the Maple Leaf Bar, now the longest running poetry reading series
in the South. While his vivid public readings would hold his audiences
in a delighted thrall, alcohol abuse eventually led him to ignore
his base needs, and he opted to sleep outside, often on the Maple
Leaf's back patio.
, by Morgan Aldrich
In 1997, Rebecca Sealfon won the US National Spelling Bee. Her odd mixture of
overconfidence and nervous energy briefly won over the nation;
she would raise her hands to her mouth and spell the words into them before speaking her answer
into the microphone; when given her final word, "eounym,"
with each letter her voice got louder and louder until she was screaming
the letters at the top of her lungs. The clip of her odd victory was replayed on the news for a
few days and then she faded into obscurity.