Arts & Culture – Page 128

Moving musical

Karen Kelm, left, and Judith Chertkow-Levy in Like a Fly in Amber, which premièred at the Toronto Fringe Festival. (photo by Victor Dezso)

After seeing Like a Fly in Amber, a musical at the Toronto Fringe Festival, I dreamt of my mother, regretting that I hadn’t spent more time with her, wishing that I had asked and listened to more about her as a person beyond her being my mother.

Karen Kelm, a Vancouver singer and musician, wrote the script and music of Like a Fly in Amber. She also takes on the role of Iris, the 62-year-old daughter of 89-year-old Grace, played by Judith Chertkow-Levy, in this two-person, 80-minute show directed by Susanne de Pencier.

The play revolves around Iris’ writing of a eulogy for her mother while sitting in the attic of the house in which she grew up. She struggles to evoke memories of the person her mother was and to put her personhood into words. The resulting tribute is beautiful.

In the interest of full disclosure, Judy is my sister, the youngest of four daughters of David and Rachelle Chertkow. She was born and raised in Vancouver, then studied opera in Toronto and in London, England. She now lives in San Diego, where she is a cantorial soloist.

Like a Fly in Amber is poignant and moving, evoking memories for all of us who have experienced a parent’s gradual decline. Karen has found the words to describe universal feelings that exist within the daughter-mother relationship. I saw audience members nodding in recognition and chuckling at some of the comments of both mother and daughter. Many families, for example, have a “brother Greg” who can do no wrong, whom we love and resent at the same time.

The music is lovely, melodic with memorable lyrics. I especially like the title song, which expresses the feelings of an old woman who is losing her power, both physical and mental. “On the Wings of an Eagle” moved me to tears as I thought of our mother in her chair in the den and on her hospital bed, expressing her sorrow that she would not see another spring. And I have been humming “Ain’t it Great to be Senile” – funny, in a bittersweet way. I wish you could hear “Pills, Pills, Pills,” a Music Man-type, rapid-fire dialogue between the characters, focused on “keeping regular” – really funny, also in a bittersweet, isn’t-life-a-bitch kind of way.

I loved seeing, as Judy put it, a play about two old broads, written for and acted by two old broads. It was so great to see Judy and Karen perform together, as I recalled their performance in a Fiddler on the Roof production in Vancouver nearly 40 years ago. I closed my eyes and remembered them both young, then opened my eyes to see the beautiful older women they are now.

Both Judy and Karen have wonderful voices and performed their roles with heart and soul. I couldn’t look at Judy, for fear I would break her up, especially when she used expressions of our mother’s or referred to stories I remember. I did laugh out loud when her character, Grace, recounts how she was so angry at a driver who cut her off in traffic that she stuck her tongue out at him.

If you missed the play in Toronto and are unable to see it in the Hamilton Fringe (until July 24), you can hear the music if you visit cdbaby.com.

Learning to live with autism

Owen Suskind is the subject of the documentary Life, Animated. (photo from A&E Indiefilms)

Children’s films – especially the animated variety – always make sure to highlight the moral of the story. But very few children embraced those lessons as deeply and thoughtfully as Owen Suskind.

Now in his mid-20s, Owen had a normal East Coast childhood until he suddenly stopped speaking when he was 3. His parents, Ron and Cornelia, tried every strategy and tactic to treat Owen’s autism, but he remained uncommunicative and seemingly unreachable.

Ron Suskind, the bestselling author of such nonfiction books as The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House and the Education of Paul O’Neill, relates in the beautifully crafted and irresistibly touching documentary Life, Animated that he was stunned one day to hear Owen repeat a snippet of dialogue while watching a Disney animated movie.

It took a few years, however, to figure out that Owen was using the characters, behavioral cues and ethical directives of Disney films to make sense of and deal with his own experiences. Benefiting from the dedicated attention of his mother and various tutors, Owen regained the ability to speak, interact with other people and thrive.

Adapted from Suskind’s 2014 book, Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes and Autism, the documentary will see four screenings at Vancity Theatre Aug. 5-11 (viff.org). It isn’t a stretch to predict that it will be a strong contender for the year-end shortlist for the Academy Award for documentary feature.

Unexpectedly, when Ron, Cornelia and Roger Ross Williams – the first African-American director to win an Oscar, for the documentary short Music by Prudence – sat down for an interview on a Sunday morning in early May, before they presented Life, Animated at the San Francisco International Film Festival, the conversation centred on Owen’s bar mitzvah.

“When he was about 11,” Cornelia recalled, “his therapist gave me a book, which no one’s ever heard of, called God and the Autism Connection. It talks about how so many, many of these kids operate on a different emotional plane.”

“He always had been spiritual,” Ron added. “In some ways, he preserved sort of a notion of God being there within reach that kids have but, even as he grew in sophistication, he didn’t give that up. He always had this way in which he was not encumbered by the usual doubts or hesitations that become the common currency of most people’s lives as they grow.”

Ron and Cornelia (who is Catholic and did not convert) belonged to a Reconstructionist synagogue in Bethesda, Md. Owen’s bar mitzvah tutor was Miriam Eisenstadt, whose mother was the first woman to be bat mitzvahed in the United States and whose grandfather was the founder of Reconstructionism, Mordecai Kaplan.

“The question was how would we get him up to the bimah and have him do what’s needed,” Ron said. “First, we had a problem where we didn’t know what movies to go to, because he really didn’t have much of a taste for The Prince of Egypt. It just didn’t work for him.”

So, Ron switched from one Exodus story to another, pointing Owen to An American Tale: Fievel Goes West. “Basically, it’s Eastern European Jews as mice,” Ron said.

At the same time, Owen embraced the part of his parashah that discussed the commandments a person should follow.

“He’s very rule-oriented,” Cornelia explained. “He’s better now but he used to be very black and white, and rules are very important.”

On the bimah, Owen honed in on one rule in particular: never put a block in front of a blind person.

“He talked about that in his speech, the notion of special, and he broadened it,” Ron said. “He had the designation of ‘he’s a special kid.’ He said, ‘But I think God wants us to see everyone as special.’”

Williams said Life, Animated included a poignant flashback scene from Owen’s bar mitzvah until it was removed from one of the last cuts. Indeed, the director goes so far back with the Suskinds that he arranged for the editing of Owen’s bar mitzvah video. Consequently, it’s ironic and moving to see that the most savvy film buff in Life, Animated is Owen, who discerns and delineates the positive themes of Disney films to other autistic children and young adults.

At the same time that it recounts Owen’s childhood journey, the documentary follows his current path to living independently in a residential community with support.

“You can almost feel his desire – I think it’s deep in all of us – to arrive at a place of faith, of constancy, of a sense of a universe that is coherent, and a place of love and possibility,” Ron said. “He was searching for that on his own. He was often using the best of Disney to help support that architecture, which actually is a pretty good pick, if you think about it.”

Michael Fox is a writer and film critic living in San Francisco.

Songs with meaning

Geoff Berner brings his hard-hitting, eminently entertaining klezmer to the Vancouver Folk Music Festival on July 16 and 17. (photo by Fumie Suzuki)

Geoff Berner doesn’t mince words. An excellent musician, he puts them to melodies that range from mournful to joyous to angry, sometimes all in one song, sometimes all at the same time. There are lyrics that inspire and those that disturb. Every song makes you think, feel, move. Berner will no doubt draw an enthusiastic crowd at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival next weekend.

His latest CD, We Are Going to Bremen to be Musicians (2015, Oriente Musik/COAX), was produced by Socalled, aka Josh Dolgin, who also contributes piano and vocals to the recording. The title song is a reinterpretation of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale Town Musicians of Bremen.

“I had an urge to retell that fable,” he told the Independent in an email interview. “At the time, I didn’t know why. I just became obsessed with it. It’s so strange. It’s a kids story about talking animals who are condemned to death but instead run away, with the plan of becoming professional musicians. Then they drive some thieves from their den, and take over the den and all the stolen goods. ‘The End.’ What?”

The animals in Berner’s song, who “people say” are “too used up to be allowed to live,” head to Bremen to be musicians, “to speak of death another day and have a sacred feast with what we stole from the thieves.” The donkey fearlessly leads his small troupe, “realism is something he’s not needing. People talk like they understand the world but they may find, when it kicks them in the head, it’s liable to change their mind.” The rooster, meanwhile, “thinks he can predict the future. Actually, he’s just a rooster. If he could read his own entrails he would see the comfort-giving chicken soup that is his destiny.” Finally, the “dog is full of moral confusion, but the cat is under no illusion. The dog did his killing out of loyalty, and for pay, but the cat knows why he would have done it anyway.” The animals are on their way to Bremen to be musicians: “They’re going to build a statue of us in the square. To commemorate the fact that we were never there.”

Berner told CBC that he thought that his obsession with the story was connected to the loss of both of his parents from cancer within a short amount of time of each other (2013-2014). “Grappling with the story,” he said, “was me trying to find a back door to processing what was going on in my life at the time … contemplating and dealing with mortality of people who were really great parents and very important to me.”

Raised in Vancouver in the Reform and Conservative traditions, Berner’s lyrics, while mostly English, are steeped in Yiddish culture and his style is most definitely klezmer.

“My grandparents spoke Yiddish,” he explained to the JI, “but it was not seen as something worth teaching to their children. So, to a certain extent, I’m trying to reclaim my heritage. We listened to some klezmer music at home and at Hebrew school, and a lot of other stuff, too.

“I originally learned music playing improvised blues piano. I love all kinds of music but, by bringing klezmer into my songwriting, I get to connect with a part of myself that I’d otherwise feel was missing from my life. And I feel strongly that there’s a radical left-wing Jewish culture that deserves to live, as much or in fact more than the nutso Orthodox tradition that represses women and worships a toxic, murderous form of Zionism.”

Berner has strong opinions, that’s for sure, and his songs can be highly critical, no doubt – just ask Gregor Robertson or Stephen Harper, among many others who have made their way into Berner’s discography. But, while he may be tilting at windmills, Berner is trying to rouse action and, with his music, he is trying to do something himself to change the world. Which is why a description of Berner in the Ottawa Citizen as “eternally cynical” doesn’t quite ring true, nor do other similar categorizations.

“I guess I get more of a thrill than a lot of people out of somebody saying flat-out, unvarnished, just how bad a thing really is,” Berner told the JI. “Does that mean I’m a cynic? I don’t know. I like the way George Orwell defined himself, as ‘an independent man of the left.’ That’s how I would define myself, politically. Am I cynical if I believe that a lot of public figures are lying and don’t have the public interest at heart? OK, so be it. Am I cynical if I don’t believe that the narrative of the human story is ‘progress upwards’? OK, so be it. I believe that there’s genuine, eternal divinity residing in the act of fighting the good fight, even if you strongly suspect you’re going to lose. To me, God lives there, so I don’t need optimism in order to feel hope.”

One of the most fun and, at the same time, discomforting songs on Berner’s latest recording is “Dance and Celebrate,” which doesn’t just talk about celebrating the “misfortunes of people we hate” but wishes misfortunes on people, and lumps together the likes of Joseph Stalin, Margaret Thatcher, Ariel Sharon and Harper.

“That song is more about allowing yourself to feel so-called ‘negative’ emotions like, for instance, white-hot, burning hatred, without judging yourself,” Berner explained. “I’m a big believer in that. What you then do with those feelings, that’s another thing. I think the Irish peace process is a good model for other conflicts because, in that case, instead of demanding a utopian, inhuman level of forgiveness from enemies, it asked less of people. Let’s not worry about whether or not we love each other, or whether or not, deep down, everyone is the same, blah, blah, blah. Let’s just begin by not actually killing each other – today. Then take it from there. If we acknowledge our real emotions, truthfully, maybe that’s a better way to begin improving the situation than to ask for the moon.”

Realism – unnecessary to the Bremen-headed donkey and so many of us – is at Berner’s core, and it sets him apart. A Georgia Straight article earlier this year was headlined, “Geoff Berner finds the humor in being a Lotusland outsider.”

“I don’t know if I really am on the outside – I have loads of privileges – but I feel like I’m on the outside,” he told the JI. “I feel apart from this culture that we’re living in, which seems floridly insane to me. In this world, there are half the birds that there were the year when I was born. Half the birds are gone. It doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. People go to plastic surgery and pay thousands of dollars to cut themselves up to look more like magazine covers. Christmas. Weddings. ‘Camping.’ What the hell? None of the things that seem central to this culture make any sense to me. I need an alternative culture to belong to, so I don’t just feel like everyone else is right and I’m a monster. So, my writing is a way to try to be part of building that. The feedback I get is that some people appreciate it. And, of course, some people don’t.”

Many people have appreciated We Are Going to Bremen to be Musicians, it seems. In addition to the recording, Berner created a book of the tale, with illustrations by Tin Can Forest. Tin Can Forest Press’ first printing of it, published in 2015, sold out; the second printing will be available next month.

Berner has also written a novel, Festival Man (Dundurn Press, 2013) – wherein “[m]averick music manager Campbell Ouiniette makes a final destructive bid for glory at the Calgary Folk Festival” – which was well received, and he has a second novel on the way, called The Fiddler is a Good Woman, expected in late 2017.

On Berner’s website, the Bremen story is described as “an absurd tale of irrational hope and optimism in the face of horror, and that’s where the story connects with the songs on the album.” Berner describes the album “as a compendium of strategies against despair.”

He’s right – as serious as Bremen is, it’s uplifting. There is much humor, as song titles such as “I Don’t Feel so Mad at God When I See You in Your Summer Dress,” readily attest, and much with which Vancouverites in particular will relate – take the song “Condos,” for example. And where else will you hear David Bowie’s “Always Crashing in the Same Car” in Yiddish?

Berner is one of more than 60 performers scheduled to perform at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival this year. The festival, which takes place at Jericho Beach July 15-17, also includes Israel’s Yemen Blues with Ravid Kahalani. For a 2011 interview with Kahalani, click here. For the full lineup and tickets of the folk festival, visit thefestival.bc.ca.

Remembering Muizenberg

Muizenberg, South Africa, was a hub for Jewish families from the 1900s onward. (photo from Stephen Rom)

For Vancouverites who hail from South Africa, the name Muizenberg carries significant resonance. The small seaside town was a hub for Jewish families from the 1900s onward, a place where children played on the long stretch of white-sand beach, young people fell in love, business deals were discussed, family relationships deepened and friendships nourished. So, when the Memories of Muizenberg exhibit opens for its 15-day span at Congregation Beth Israel on July 10, there’s an excellent chance of hearing South African accents in the voices of attendees.

The exhibit was created in 2009, when it debuted in Cape Town, chronicling the Jewish presence in Muizenberg between 1900 and the early 1960s. After that, it began a whirlwind tour to Johannesburg, London, Israel, Perth, Sydney, Melbourne, Toronto and San Diego before it finally landed in Vancouver. For each of its moves a former South African Jew adopted the exhibition, gathering fundraisers, assistants and exhibit spaces in their respective cities. In Vancouver, that man is Stephen Rom, originally from Cape Town, who immigrated to Canada in 1986 and moved to Vancouver in 1992.

“I’m just a shlepper that was interested in the exhibit,” he said with a laugh. “When a friend told me the exhibit was in San Diego, I thought we needed to get it trucked up to Vancouver. I think it’s important to keep Memories of Muizenberg circulated – a hell of a lot of research went into it and it’s beautifully put together.”

photo - The exhibit opening in Toronto. Created in 2009, Memories of Muizenberg debuted in Cape Town and has been to Johannesburg, London, Israel, Perth, Sydney, Melbourne, Toronto, San Diego and, now, Vancouver — The exhibit opening in Toronto. Created in 2009, Memories of Muizenberg debuted in Cape Town and has been to Johannesburg, London, Israel, Perth, Sydney, Melbourne, Toronto, San Diego and, now, Vancouver.

Rom arranged for the crate containing the 40-panel exhibit to be stored in the warehouse of fellow former South African Lexie Bernstein, and solicited donors to cover the costs associated with transportation and opening night festivities. Muizenberg has a special place in his heart and memories, he confided.

“It was a place my family and extended family spent every Sunday – you loaded the car, took the food and you didn’t need to look for friends – they were always there,” he reflected. “No one phoned to say, are you going to Muizenberg? You just knew, everyone in your community was going to be there. You’d go swimming, get attacked by bluebottles, get knocked over and soaked by a wave from the creeping high tide, have the wind blowing in your hair and eat homemade rusks (cookies) mixed with sand. It was part of our DNA.”

Bernstein, who moved from Cape Town to Vancouver in 1987, recalls catching the train with his friends in the summer months to get to Muizenberg. “When the train pulled into the station, the conductor would shout out ‘Jerusalem!’” he said. “I think ex-South Africans in Vancouver will love this exhibition, and other Jews in the community will be fascinated about where we come from.”

Rom’s only regret about the exhibit is that it ends in 1962 instead of continuing. He’s asking former South Africans in Vancouver to email photographs that pertain to their history in Muizenberg and that might be shown as a slide show at the exhibit’s opening night, July 10, 7 p.m. To submit your memories, email Rom at srom@shaw.ca.

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net.

Dancers explore our humanity

Naomi Brand’s En Route will be performed by members of All Bodies Dance Project. (photo by Chris Randle)

New works and the pushing of boundaries. Just what audiences expect from the Dancing on the Edge contemporary dance festival, and just what the three participating Jewish community members have created.

This year’s Dancing on the Edge (DOTE), which takes place July 7-16, includes work by Tara Cheyenne Friedenberg, Amber Funk Barton and Naomi Brand.

Friedenberg’s I can’t remember the word for I can’t remember is an excerpt from a work-in-progress – a new solo she is creating with director John Murphy.

Tara Cheyenne Friedenberg has worked with actor John Murphy to create I can’t remember the word for I can’t remember. (photo by Wendy D Photography)

“I will be performing but a lot of what we’ve been making has come out of our conversations about memory and the displacement of our memories in the digital world,” she explained. “The piece explores how our minds, our selves escape us and the panic that brings.”

Friedenberg and Murphy met years ago, when she was choreographing a Fringe show in which he was performing.

“He is one of the funniest performers I know and a very smart playwright and director,” said Friedenberg. “I wanted to do research into narrative structure and comic writing, as well as explore being ‘myself’ onstage. Once John and I started researching, we both got excited about turning the research into a piece. Marc Stewart will create an original score for the work as well.”

As for other future projects, Friedenberg said she had recently returned from a residency in Italy where she was collaborating with Italian dance-theatre-performance artist Silvia Gribaudi. “We will be premièring our duet next year at the Scotiabank Dance Centre – it’s a co-production with the Dance Centre and Chutzpah!”

In addition to DOTE, Friedenberg is also choreographing West Side Story for Theatre Under the Stars this summer.

“It’s my first time working for TUTS and the cast is fantastic!” she said. “The amazing Sarah Rodgers is directing – I also met her years ago on the same Fringe show where I met John. It’s a very edgy take on West Side and I am able to bring my contemporary vision to it.”

Barton is also bringing a new work to DOTE that she hopes will evolve into something larger – Village, a 15-minute group piece, performed by members of the response.’s apprenticeship program.

Dancers from response.’s apprenticeship program will perform Amber Funk Barton’s Village. (photo by Chris Barton)

About it, Barton said, “I am always interested in working with narrative and story and, lately, I seem to be inspired by small towns and their intimate interactions. When I travel, I find it fascinating that, as a human race, we all have a similar rhythm to our lives but the diversity of how we carry out this rhythm is what continues to make us interesting to one another. We all wake up. We all eat breakfast. We all go to work. We all struggle to define what our short lives on this planet mean. We all love and have our hearts broken. We all want to be loved. We struggle to attain happiness…. So, I’ve decided that I would like to make a dance that reflects these inspirations; I want to portray a group of people who live by the sea and survive a storm.

“My intention in creating Village for the festival this year,” she continued, “is that it is a starting point for a much more developed work with possibly a larger cast. But, to start, I am working with four dancers – Andrew Haydock, Antonio Somera Jr., Marcy Mills and Tessa Tamura – who have all gone through my company’s apprentice program. So, this is also a special endeavor, as it is giving these emerging dancers an opportunity to perform in the festival, as well as working with them as professional dancers. It’s really exciting to witness their growth. I’ve also decided not to perform in Village because I want to focus solely on the creation of it.”

Another focus of Barton’s has been working to make VAST, her first full-length solo, a reality. “I’ve been doing a lot of movement research and performing works-in-progress in support of it and I’m currently working towards a 2017 première,” she said.

“I’ve also held two more cycles of my company’s apprentice program. It’s hard to believe, but my company’s 10th anniversary is on the horizon, so I’m dreaming about what I would like to create to celebrate that. I’m also teaching regularly and am currently on staff as the head of contemporary at Avant Dance Company in Burnaby.”

And, if that weren’t enough, Barton recently did a residency with the company EDAM Dance.

“This spring,” she said, “with the support of EDAM, I was invited to create a 20-minute work for three dancers. I called the trio Scenes for Your Consideration and it was recently performed at EDAM’s Induction performance series.” The work featured Elya Grant, Somera Jr. and Haydock, she added, “and became a collection of scenes and interactions where the relationships between the dancers continued to shift. When I watch the work, I see them shift between friends, enemies, lovers, siblings – all the various roles that we encounter in our everyday lives.”

Brand’s work for DOTE is about a different form of shifting. Called En Route, it “explores different ways to traverse public spaces and negotiate our place in a crowd. The piece celebrates and exploits the fine line between practical and performative ways of getting from point A to point B.” To the program description, Brand added, “Directionality and determination to get somewhere are contrasted with meandering, circuitous pathways towards our goal.”

The piece will be performed in the inner courtyard of the Woodward’s Building, which, she said, “requires me to think more creatively about the three-dimensional experience of watching a living choreography. The Woodward’s space is also a space with its own complex choreography of people moving through it in myriad diverse ways towards their own destinations. We are excited to build upon the existing dance of that space.”

En Route will be performed by members of All Bodies Dance Project, which she described as “an inclusive group of movers who experience and perceive the world differently.”

Brand launched All Bodies Dance Project in September 2014 with Mirae Rosner and Sarah Lapp.

“The three of us were/are interested in making a space in Vancouver to explore an inclusive dance practice that was open to movers of all abilities,” said Brand. “We have been really fortunate to partner with the Vancouver Parks Board and the Roundhouse to make this project possible.

“All Bodies Dance Project is accessible to anyone and welcomes difference as a creative strength,” she continued. “Our work poses questions about dance and how it is practised: Who has access to dance training? Who gets to make dances? What is the artistic potential of different types of people dancing together?

“By bringing together ‘standing dancers’ with dancers who use wheelchairs and other mobility aids, our practice seeks to challenge the ideas of normalized dancing bodies and make space for a new and innovative community of dance makers. We want to widen the spectrum of who dances and what dance can be.”

All Bodies Dance Project has created two full evening productions to date, See & Be Seen (2015) and TRACE (2016), and have done numerous community performances in local festivals and events, said Brand. “We are interested in continuing to create new and innovative pieces of choreography, allowing new audiences to see the choreographic possibilities of difference.”

In the fall, she said, there will be a new session of the group’s open classes at Trout Lake Community Centre and the Roundhouse, in addition to a new class it is launching for young dancers ages 8-12 at Mount Pleasant Community Centre and a new group at Sunset Community Centre (allbodiesdance.ca).

In addition, Brand continues “to make and perform contemporary dance across a wide spectrum of contexts, from my own solo work to work with professional dancers to dance with diverse populations. I have just completed a three-year residency at the Roundhouse, where I was working with an ensemble of 20 older adults called the Ageless Dancers.”

As well, when the JI contacted Brand by email for this interview, she was on Toronto Island where, she said, “I am working with a group of 24 dance makers from across Canada on a project called 8 DAYS. This is my fourth time at this intergenerational gathering that aims to connect choreographers, to share their practices and create dialogue about the form.”

For the full schedule and tickets for the DOTE festival, visit dancingontheedge.org.

New award on literary scene

A new Canadian literary prize was announced recently – the Joan Betty Stuchner Oy Vey! Funniest Children’s Book Award.

photo - Joan Betty Stuchner’s friends have created a children’s book award in her memory — Joan Betty Stuchner’s friends have created a children’s book award in her memory. *(photo by Tom Kavadias)*

“With this award, we honor Joan Betty Stuchner’s life-affirming humor and encourage other children’s writers to laugh it up on the page the way she did,” reads the award website. The $1,000 prize will be given out once every two years to a Canadian author and/or illustrator who creates the most hilarious book for readers ages 12 and under.

“We feel that Joan would have loved this prize that supports authors who make children laugh,” said Cindy Heinrichs, one of the award committee members, in an interview with the Independent. “The name of the award is probably the longest and funniest book award name in literary history. Joan would love it. She would laugh at it, if she were alive. I can almost hear her laughing.”

Stuchner, one of the funniest authors of children’s books in Canada, passed away unexpectedly in 2014. She was only 67 years old.

“I met Joan in 2006,” Heinrichs recalled. “I edited one of her books, Honey Cake, for Tradewind. I was a young editor then, and Joan was very supportive. She had a knack for making everyone she met feel like they were her friend.

“We did become friends. Later, when she was already sick, I helped her with the final edits for her two latest books, Bagels the Brave and Bagels on Board [both illustrated by Dave Whamond]. I wasn’t working for her publisher then, I did it as a friend, because she was too ill to do it alone. It gave her a great deal of pleasure to complete these books and a great deal of satisfaction to know that they would find their way into the world. Both books were published posthumously by Orca Books.”

Heinrichs remembered how shocked all Stuchner’s friends were by her passing. “Joan was a wonderful friend, warm and generous. She loved children. She loved books. She was a little lady with a big personality and a great sense of humor.”

Born in England, Stuchner moved to Canada when she was 18. After graduating from the University of British Columbia, she worked as a library assistant, taught part-time, acted in community theatre and performed as a storyteller.

“My life is full of books … and my house is like a mini library – despite the fact that I moved in 2009 and had to give away many of my books. Not an easy thing to do,” Stuchner herself wrote in her bio.

She always liked to write, particularly for children. Her stories and poetry were published in children’s magazines before her first book, Peanut Butter Waltz, illustrated by Diana Durrand, came out in 1990.

“She wanted to write full-time,” said Heinrichs. “At 64, she retired to make that dream come true. Sadly, she died only three years later.”

After the funeral, several of Stuchner’s friends, including Heinrichs, got together to reminisce and to talk about Stuchner’s literary legacy, her funny and heartwarming children’s books.

“We realized that there was no prize in Canada for humorous children’s books. We thought, Joan would love such a prize, we should found one.”

They did. And, in honor their departed friend, they named the prize after her. The members of the award committee include Heinrichs, fellow writers Caroline Adderson and Silvana Goldemberg, and artist/ illustrator Kathryn Shoemaker.

“We all met through CWILL BC – Children’s Writers and Illustrators Society of B.C.,” Heinrichs said. “When we started with the prize, we didn’t know what to do. Everything was a first for all of us, and everything was done by volunteers. There are no administrative fees. No paid staff. We asked people to help – to make a logo, to make a website, to help with fundraising, to donate books – and everyone jumped in. Orca and Tradewind donated books to raise the funds for the prize. Shar Levine is helping us with fundraising, too. She has so many amazing ideas, even though she is not a member of the committee.”

Submissions for the inaugural prize, which will be awarded in 2017, already have started pouring in, from publishers and writers organizations across Canada, although the committee decided not to accept submissions from self-published writers, at least for now. Heinrichs explained that decision: “While there are wonderful examples of self-published books for children, many self-published books are in need of a thorough editorial process. Most book prizes don’t accept them at this time, but that may change. Our prize is brand new and we are learning. We expect it will grow as we do.”

To learn more, visit joanbettystuchneraward.org.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at olgagodim@gmail.com.

Storytelling overtaken by facts

Isaac Bashevis Singer and Sholem Aleichem gave us delightful fables about the shtetl, the overcrowded villages of Eastern Europe, with endearing characters that contended with abysmal poverty, deadly pogroms and false messiahs. However, life in the shtetl was not always so dreary.

In a new book that effectively undermines the archetypical shtetls of our imagination, Yohanan Petrovsky-Shtern in The Golden Age Shtetl: A New History of Jewish Life in East Europe (Princeton University Press) redraws the image of the shtetl. A professor of Jewish studies at Northwestern University and author of several books, Petrovsky-Shtern documents a brief period in history, from the late 17th century to the mid-18th century, when life was not so bad in those towns of our ancestors in eastern Poland and Ukraine.

book cover - The Golden Age Shtetl: A New History of Jewish Life in East Europe Petrovsky-Shtern looks closely at three provinces with 44 shtetls in Eastern Europe. Relying mostly on documents that were previously overlooked, he discovers that many of the shtetls at that time were neither poor nor especially pious. On the contrary, they were thriving communities with stable economies built around popular market fairs. Some shtetls had trading firms that rivaled those found in large cities. Some had fancy restaurants and a rich cultural life.

Although Jewish businessmen were prominent, the Jews were a minority in many of the towns. Jews and Christians lived and worked together.

As might be expected in any neighborhood, the Jewish community also had its share of characters of questionable integrity. Petrovsky-Shtern goes through historic court records that reveal stories of bribes, counterfeiting, smuggling, informants and collusion of Jewish businessmen with crooked clerks. Even the rabbinical leadership comes under his microscope.

Jews came to Eastern Europe with the Greek colonizers more than 2,000 years ago but the Jewish presence in the region was minimal until Polish nobility encouraged Jewish migration from Western Europe.

The Jews were invited to run country fairs and sell liquor, two activities that provided significant tax revenues to the Polish authorities. The Jewish businessmen brought new “Western” approaches to trade. They put stores and stalls under one roof, and sold exotic merchandise from distant lands. They opened inns offering a place to drink and a bed. They injected a cosmopolitan slice of urban life into rural agricultural areas. They expanded trade, bringing prosperity to the region.

By 1840, however, the golden era had started to fade. The Russian monarchy, which had ruled the region with benign neglect since the partition of Poland in the late 1700s, began asserting its authority. Discriminatory laws against Jews contributed to the decline of the shtetl, as authorities shifted economic and political power to larger urban centres. Once-vibrant communities turned into depressed outposts of the Russian Empire, the shtetl of popular Yiddish literature. They struggled to survive in their diminished state, until the Nazi regime wiped them out.

A fascinating and often ignored aspect of the shtetl described by Petrovsky-Shtern is the relationship of the shtetl Jews with the Holy Land.

In the late 18th century, about 500 Jews from the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth went to Palestine to build a religious utopian community. Followers of Rabbi Eliyahu ben Zalman, the Mitnagdim idealists, were convinced that resettlement would pave the way for the Messiah. The rabbi, also known as the Vilna Gaon, had predicted the Messiah would arrive in 1840, coinciding with the year 5600 in the Jewish calendar.

Not to be undone, followers of the Ba’al Shem Tov, the rival Chassidic sect, made aliyah in even greater numbers, settling in Safed, Tiberias, Hebron and Jerusalem. By 1800, the Jewish population of Palestine had expanded to 6,000, accounting for roughly two percent of the population.

Petrovsky-Shtern recounts the impact of this aliyah on those who remained behind in the shtetl. In some respects, reverberations of the migration continue to be felt almost 200 years later.

The pioneers in Palestine faced unimaginable challenges: poverty, illnesses, natural disasters, famine and discriminatory Ottoman Empire laws. In order to survive, the Jews of Palestine developed a sophisticated network of rabbinic fundraisers who went from shtetl to shtetl, giving sermons, selling books and sparking the imagination with stories about the Holy Land, including tales about inscriptions on the tombs of the prophets.

The rabbinic messengers assured shtetl Jews that supporting Jews in the Holy Land was comparable to fulfilling the commandment of settling in the Holy Land themselves. The rabbis, who kept meticulous records, told donors that prayers were chanted on their behalf at the Cave of Machpelah, the gravesite of Abraham, Isaac,

Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca and Leah.

The authorities tried to stop the flow of funds to Palestine. They suspected that the Jews, who they blamed for the death of Jesus, were sending money to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem. They believed that the fundraising was reinforcing Jewish separateness, undermining assimilation, increasing fanaticism and possibly hindering Jews’ ability to pay local taxes.

Also, as the years passed, raising funds for the Jews in Palestine was viewed as aiding an enemy of the state. By the 1800s, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had been partitioned and territory that included many of the shtetls became part of the Russian Empire, which had hostile relations with the Ottoman rulers.

Yet, Jewish communities still managed to raise money, especially in the years from 1810 to 1830. Aiding the Jews of Palestine became one of the highest priorities for Eastern Europe’s Jews, comparable only to the commandment of ransoming prisoners, Petrovsky-Shtern says.

The communal leadership of dozens of shtetls in the provinces of Volhynia and Podolia imposed a tax to help establish a synagogue in Jerusalem and maintain Chassidic groups. Charity boxes were on many dining tables and store counters. As well, sacks of earth from the Holy Land and ritual objects produced by the Jews of Palestine found their way into everyday life of the shtetl. Unpublished manuscripts by Holy Land rabbis and mystics were much sought-after reading, passing from hand-to-hand in the shtetl.

In a tale that echoes across two centuries, Petrovsky-Shtern recounts the role of the legendary charity boxes that are now found in many Jewish homes in North America. He writes that Jewish women in the shtetl of Kremenets, and possibly surrounding towns, turned the “commandment” to help the Jews of Palestine into an intrinsic part of the blessings over candles before Shabbat: right before the blessing, they put some money aside in a wooden charity box or tin mug to support the Holy Land communities.

By the time of the devastating earthquake in Safed in 1837, whatever hurt Palestine was felt just as strongly in the shtetls of Eastern Europe. The relationship between the shtetl and the Jews of Palestine appears to have many similarities with contemporary links between Israel and the Diaspora.

Petrovsky-Shtern provides a wealth of information about many different aspects of daily life, woven between lively vignettes to illustrate the comfortable standard of living enjoyed by many shtetls before their precipitous disintegration.

Unfortunately, the book is too easy to put down. Petrovsky-Shtern’s encyclopedic descriptions of the shtetl provide solid background for an academic understanding of the shtetl, but the pace is uneven. Interesting stories, such as the account of the relationship to the Holy Land, are interspersed with lengthy reports of dry historical records.

As Petrovsky-Shtern wanders back and forth across the years and jumps from shtetl to shtetl, the locations and dates turn into boring lengthy lists of trivia. Despite the endless string of names of real people, the reader does not come to know anyone in the shtetl. The facts may be on Petrovsky-Shtern’s side, but Isaac Bashevis Singer and Sholem Aleichem tell much more memorable stories.

Robert Matas, a Vancouver-based writer, is a former journalist with the Globe and Mail. This review was originally published on the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library website and is reprinted here with permission. To reserve this book or any other, call 604-257-5181 or email library@jccgv.bc.ca. To view the catalogue, visit jccgv.com and click on Isaac Waldman library.

Share in collectors’ passions

Yosef Wosk with his collection of circus memorabilia, some of which can be seen in the Museum of Vancouver exhibit All Together Now: Vancouver Collectors and Their Worlds. (photo by Rebecca Blissett)

Prosthetics. Menus. Corsets. Artificial eyes. Seeds. Public transit documents. One wouldn’t necessarily think of these items as “collectibles,” yet they form part of a new exhibition that opened on June 23 at the Museum of Vancouver (MOV).

All Together Now: Vancouver Collectors and Their Worlds presents wall-to-wall displays of rare and unconventional items from 20 local collectors. Rounding out each exhibit is an opportunity for a fun, hands-on experience and a profile of the collector, including his or her motivations for collecting.

The exhibition explores the questions: Why do people collect and how do private collections touch public consciousness?

“The act of collecting is a fascinating way to engage with one’s identity, history and community,” Viviane Gosselin, curator of contemporary culture at the MOV, said in a release. “This exhibition enables visitors to enter into the rich, often unknown worlds of collectors and to think about how private collections can affect our understanding of the past. In this way, it reminds us of the importance of collectors as memory-keepers.”

Some of the exhibition’s “memory-keepers” include Imogene Lim, an anthropologist who collects Chinese-Canadian restaurant menus. She does so because they connect to her family story and her interest in intercultural history. David Moe collects vintage artificial limbs because they connect to his father’s profession and provide insight into the development of medical technology.

Gosselin noted that many of the collections form the basis for larger conversations about important societal issues. For example, Harold Steves’ collection of heirloom seeds ties to environmental history and issues of sustainability and food security. Prosthetics stimulate discussions about visibility, accessibility, social stigmas associated with disability and prosthetic design developments.

photo - Harold Steves’ collection of heirloom seeds ties to environmental history and issues of sustainability and food security — Harold Steves’ collection of heirloom seeds ties to environmental history and issues of sustainability and food security. *(photo by Rebecca Blissett)*

For Yosef Wosk, whose circus memorabilia was chosen by MOV curators to feature in the exhibition, collecting represents “an assembly of ideas, feelings, interesting people, travels and experiences so that the whole world, in a way, is a great museum.” He believes that the selection of his circus memorabilia for exhibition was “serendipitous,” as he considers the circus a “metaphor for life … usually a joyous place and sometimes an adventure.”

Wosk has been an avid collector of art and other diverse objects for many years. His 20 different collections encompass paintings, sculptures, photographs, furniture, carpets, lamps, textiles, glass, books (subdivided into 15 to 20 categories), toys and religious articles, including Judaica. He cherishes his collection of Torah scrolls from around the world, including Syria, Yemen, Iraq, Iran, Morocco and Tunisia.

As a child, Wosk collected coins, stamps, marbles and comics, but he is nostalgic in remembering the purchase of his first piece of “real art” at the age of 16. It was a Japanese scroll that he decided was worthy of his entire summer salary as a junior counsellor at Camp Hatikvah.

Over the years, Wosk built up his collection while studying and working in different cities around the world, such as Jerusalem, New York, Toronto, Philadelphia and Boston. As a student in Toronto, he acquired (with the help of his father) an Andy Warhol screenprint, “Ten Portraits of Jews of the Twentieth Century,” which he kept in a cardboard case under his bed.

Perhaps naturally, it was in Jerusalem that Wosk started to collect Judaica. Noting that, “collecting is an external manifestation of inner thoughts, feelings and spirituality,” he regards his Jewish collections, in particular, as an appreciation of Creation. He points out that the first description of G-d in the Torah is as an artist, as Creator. Moreover, the earth, and everything that fills it, is G-d’s collection. As such, Wosk has a profound appreciation for human creativity as an extension of the individual but, ultimately, of G-d. “That is how I feel about the collection, which is part of the world and the universe, which emanates from the Creator,” he said.

Wosk also believes that, as a collector, he has a responsibility to share his prized possessions with others.

“Sharing is as important as the collecting,” he said. “I find that collecting is not just owning, but along with ownership comes responsibility … to the object, the artist and the community.”

Wosk also emphasized, “People shouldn’t be afraid to collect and give it away.” He is a proud patron of the arts, serving on local and national boards of directors for various museums and art organizations (he was a founder of the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia), donating art to hospitals and institutions of higher learning, and lending his collections to different exhibitions. His collection of Judaica has been displayed in Philadelphia and Boston, as well as in Vancouver, including at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver’s Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery. He hopes to coordinate an exhibition in Israel in the future.

Wosk’s remarkable collections, and his enthusiasm to share his “wealth” with diverse communities, warrants his honorific as a “memory-keeper.” For a man who once worked as a teaching assistant for one of the greatest memory-keepers in history, the esteemed Elie Wiesel, this is perhaps not so serendipitous.

All Together Now: Vancouver Collectors and Their Worlds is at the Museum of Vancouver until Jan. 8, 2017. If you fancy yourself a collector and would like to participate in this exhibition, the MOV invites the public to post pictures of themselves with their collections on social media using the hashtag #mycollectionatMOV. Images will be projected onto a wall of photos. For more information, visit museumofvancouver.ca.

Alexis Pavlich is a Vancouver-based freelance writer.

Embarking on career

Rami Katz (photo from Rami Katz)

Fish Soup, a 10-minute documentary by Vancouver-based filmmaker Rami Katz, screened at the Toronto Jewish Film Festival last month.

The film is an exploration of Katz’s family and their cultural traditions through the making of a fish soup. He has also submitted the documentary to the Vancouver Jewish Film Centre for consideration in its annual festival, which takes place in November.

“It was this program that motivated me to go on to film school at Simon Fraser University,” Katz told the Independent. “At the time, there were no documentary courses being offered, so my undergraduate film school experience was mostly in narrative filmmaking. But, in my third year, I interned for John Zaritsky, a veteran documentary filmmaker, and he ended up hiring me after I graduated. He has kept in touch as a friend and a mentor ever since, and has definitely been a huge inspiration to me.”

In addition to the industry itself, Katz has been influenced by professors, peers and his studies at the University of British Columbia.

“It has been an enriching experience to spend time with like-minded individuals who share similar passions for documentary film,” he said. “In 2014, I decided to go back to school to pursue an MFA in film production at UBC, which would allow me to grow and develop as a filmmaker, creatively and intellectually, and dedicate myself more fully to my own personal work. I made Fish Soup in a documentary class at UBC, taught by Cari Green and Bruce Spangler, both nurturing and supportive teachers.”

Fish Soup was developed after Katz told his partner, Sarah Sheridan, a humorous story about his father. After hearing the anecdote, Sheridan suggested that Katz make a film about it. He liked the idea of working on a personal project, as he had never before even considered making a documentary about his own life.

“I think everybody has a family recipe and everyone has a family story, so this film kind of taps into that and, hopefully, gets people thinking about their own stories they want to share. For me, this was also a way for me to connect to my own grandfather, whom I was named after but never got a chance to meet because he died before I was born.”

At the Toronto Jewish Film Festival screening of Fish Soup, Katz was able to include both Sheridan and his brother Raphael in the event. After the screening at the Royal Ontario Museum, Katz and his family were treated to a Shabbat dinner at the Free Times Café.

Though highly inclusive of both his family and his colleagues, Katz said creative control was paramount to successfully completing the documentary.

“I think, for a personal film, creative control is hugely important. It’s especially important if it’s a passion project, if you’re not getting paid to make it. It’s important to note here that my crew wasn’t getting paid as well, and they are putting in a lot of hours and energy and were hugely influential in the creation of the film. Sarah helped a lot with the initial concept and project logistics. She truly was a driving force behind the film and I couldn’t have made it without her help and support.”

Katz also expressed his gratitude to Ben Leyland, William Drobetsky and Felix Oltean.

When asked how Fish Soup touches on the importance of upholding familial traditions and values within the larger Jewish culture, Katz said, “I’m not very religious, but a lot of the cultural aspects of Judaism and some of the traditions are important for me. I like to celebrate the holidays and, for the past eight months or so, I’ve been observing Shabbat in my own way. Sarah and I recently hosted our first Passover seder, and we’re starting to do Shabbat dinners every now and then with friends. I think this film helped me to connect with my cultural roots and observe aspects of Judaism that are most meaningful to me.”

Katz is currently filming his master of fine arts thesis film at UBC – a documentary on the life and work of Vancouverite Jack O’Dell, 93, who was an influential figure within the African-American civil rights movement.

Jonathan Dick is a freelance writer living in Toronto. His writing has appeared in the Canadian Jewish News, and various other publications in Canada and the United States.

Film on Jewish burial process

If you have ever wondered what will happen after your death – when your soul leaves your body but you have not yet been buried – a new film by Saul Henteleff walks you through precisely that experience.

The 30-minute documentary My Jewish Death was screened at Winnipeg’s Limmud festival on March 13. In the film, Henteleff plays a recently deceased person who is taken through the steps of a mock tahara, the Jewish ritual wherein the chevra kadisha (burial society) prepares the body for its final rest. Tahara is done by volunteers and is the main focus of the movie.

The film, which took 10 years to make, includes interviews with several local rabbis, as well as the executive director of Winnipeg’s Chesed Shel Emes, Rena Boroditsky, who was present at the Limmud event, along with Henteleff, to answer questions.

photo - Saul Henteleff’s documentary shows how a chevra kadisha prepares a body for burialy — Saul Henteleff’s documentary shows how a chevra kadisha prepares a body for burial. *(photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)*

When asked how it felt to play the role of someone who has died, Henteleff said, “I felt very well taken care of. I also think about the filmmaking … everything is broken down into steps. It’s, thankfully, pretty continuous from beginning to end, but we’d start and stop and reshoot. I tried to hold my breath. There are a few things going on there. More so, I had a chance to reflect on it as the edit was coming together.”

When asked if the film changed him, Henteleff replied that he was very skeptical about the whole concept before he started. “When I heard Rabbi [Neal] Rose talking about the afterlife, there were things about it that I just found to be ridiculous. As I was going through the process and the power of these things, that’s when my mind changed and my feeling about the whole thing shifted.

“These are things we hold as a community – I’m Jewish – that we identify with. I saw the value or importance and the respect that it carries: sand on the eyes, the pieces of clay sprinkled on the eyes and groin. These things have been going on for centuries … if we take it seriously, it’s very important.”

Many attendees expressed their gratitude for the film having been made and described it as a “must-see film for Jews.”

In the documentary, it is explained that men are buried with a tallit (prayer shawl) supplied by the deceased’s family, while women are generally not.

While Boroditsky assists in the tahara in the film, in reality, only men perform this ritual for men. “There was some artistic licence taken for the film,” she said. “Normally, we have women who look after women and men who look after men.”

At the screening, Henteleff shared that he was trained before the making of the film and has been volunteering with the chevra kadisha for three or four years now. He also said there were a number of people who were not comfortable with him undergoing the ritual.

“It’s pretty controversial, even when we have a conference and we do a demonstration,” said Boroditsky. “Should we do a demonstration on a live person even though we don’t wash her? Should we cover her face? To do tahara on a live person, not everyone felt comfortable with that. This film is one of a kind.

“The basics of tahara are the same. Around the world, it’s trans-denominational – Reform, Reconstructionist, Orthodox – the basics of tahara are the same…. Some of the prayers may be different, depending on who is doing it and the outfit might be different; one more piece, one less. This is one of the things in Judaism that is universal and very similar all around the world.”

Any Jewish person being buried in one of the four main Jewish cemeteries in Winnipeg must have the ritual performed. People who are buried at the Temple Shalom cemetery at Chapel Lawn have the option of having tahara done at the Chapel Lawn funeral home by trained members of Temple Shalom.

As for the casket, Boroditsky said, “A kosher casket is made from wood with no metal pieces, and usually has rope handles. It’s held together with dowels and glue, no nails. So, that can be what they would call a plain pine box.

“In Toronto and Montreal, where it is more of a commercial funeral home, they offer … a full range of caskets. In every other community outside of Toronto and Montreal – Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg and Vancouver – we have a choice of one casket. Our caskets are $550, to keep things as low cost as possible.”

In the case of infants less than 30 days old who have passed away, there is no tahara required. Boroditsky speculated the reason for this as having to do with the fact that, back when the rules were made, infant mortality was very high.

“If you mourned a year for every child, people wouldn’t have been able to live,” said Boroditsky. “Certainly now, the Conservative movement and Reform movement have developed rituals for services for infants, for stillborns and for babies. There has been some movement in that.”

My Jewish Death will be distributed widely in coming months. The trailer is available on YouTube.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.