Arts & Culture – Page 160

Inhabiting his father’s world

Bob Bossin (photo by Suzanne Kimpan)

Bob Bossin, a well-known Canadian folk musician, recently released a book about his father, Davy the Punk: A Story of Bookies, Toronto the Good, the Mob and My Dad. The book is a compilation of true-life stories about the author’s father, David, a legendary figure in the underground gambling scene in Toronto in the 1920s, ’30s and ’40s, but it’s much more than that. It is also a social commentary on Canadian life off the lawful path in the first half of the 20th century.

Simultaneously with the release of the book, on which it is based, Bossin is touring with his new one-man musical, Songs and Stories of Davy the Punk: The Very Jewish Story of My Father’s Life in the Gambling Business. He brings it to Havana Theatre June 3-7, and recently talked to the JI about both projects.

JI: How and when did you come up with the idea for this book?

BB: My father died when I was young, just 17, but I heard many stories about him. One afternoon in the early 1970s, I stopped for lunch at the United Bakers Restaurant on Spadina Avenue. It had been in Toronto since 1912 and it had a counter man as old as Methuselah. I sat at the counter and started kibitzing with him. I asked him how long he had lived in Toronto.

“Longer than my teeth,” he said in Yiddish. So I asked him if he knew the Bossins.

“Sure,” he said, “I knew the Bossins. I knew Hye, Celia, Sady, Bessie, Davy….”

“Davy was my father,” I told him.

“Sure, I knew Davy. We used to call him Davy the Punk.”

“Davy the Punk? Why Davy the Punk?”

“Because he was a punk kid. He was a gangster.”

After that, I became very interested in my father and, as it turned out, the police had felt the same way. While my father was not a man who wrote things down, the police wrote a lot about him. So I started to haunt the archives and newspaper morgues. I tracked down old bookies, old cops and old judges and, over the years, I pieced together my father’s story.

JI: Did you use your imagination to fill the gaps or when memory was fuzzy?

BB: Of course, the imagination is very much involved, even as you are trying to stay as close to the facts as possible. People live lives, not stories. Turning a life into a story is an imaginative act.

JI: Could you tell us something about the research you did for the book?

BB: Calling this book a memoir was the publisher’s idea. Fair enough: books have to be categorized, and “storybook” wasn’t one of the options. But that is how I think of it. This is the story I might tell you on a summer night, if I really got wound up. I suppose it is a memoir of sorts, but my father died when I was a teen, so my personal memories of him end early. Of necessity, I have reconstructed much of Davy the Punk from what others told me, and from the documents my father had nothing to do with.

I did get some of the story straight from my father, Davy Bossin. Among friends and family, Davy was not secretive about his past, and I liked nothing better than listening in when he told his stories. I only wish that I had asked him more questions, and that I had a better memory than I do. Of course, in the end, our fathers’ lives always remain a mystery, and mine no less, despite my best efforts to snoop.

Over the years, I have learned a lot about what Davy did, but how he did it, I can only guess. For instance, I know that he went to New York around 1950 to tell Frank Costello he was quitting the gambling business. But how did he feel boarding the train? Worried? Confident? Nonchalant?

Or there is Bill Gold’s story of Davy happily kibitzing with the murderous Fischetti brothers in a Cleveland gambling club in 1948. Was Davy really as relaxed as his friend remembered a half-century later, when he was 92? I decided to take Gold’s word and reported the story that way. The book is peppered with choices like that … as I kept after Davy the Punk through all the obstacles and dead-ends inherent in chasing a man with a 50-year headstart.

My mother was another important source… After her and my father, I am, in a way, most indebted to Alex Haley, the author of Roots. Sometime in the late 1970s, Haley called everyone to go out with a tape recorder and tape their family elders’ stories. I thought that was a terrific idea…. I recorded interviews with a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins, filling many a cassette. I always asked them about Davy.

JI: You talked to people, searched in archives and libraries. What else?

BB: The internet. Suddenly every paper ever published by the Toronto Star or the Globe and Mail was online and searchable. When I searched 1940, up came Gordon Sinclair’s live coverage of the raid on the Canadian Turf and Sports Bulletin, my father’s business. Overall, the books, articles and theses I read number in the hundreds.

JI: How long did it take to write the book?

BB: It took five or six years. I do lots and lots of re-writing.

JI: How and when did the book get turned into a show?

BB: That was my idea from the get-go. Performing, telling stories on stage, both as songs and prose, that’s what I have done for a living all my life. The show premièred at the Ashkenaz Festival in Toronto two years ago, as a sort of one-act musical reading. It has come a long way since then. I developed it through a few other preview performances that fall, and then put it aside. I’ve just started performing the full version. So far, it’s been four shows.

JI: How much of the book went into the show?

BB: The show is maybe one-tenth of the length of the book. They each have their own tone. The book goes much deeper into the history of my father’s world, particularly of the gambling business, the mob, the behind-the-scenes workings of the authorities, the antisemitism of the times. But the show has the magic of a live theatrical experience and, of course, it has the music.

JI: You’re the author as well as the performer. Do you change the show depending on public reaction?

BB: So far, yes. There’s nothing like getting it in front of an audience to see how it connects. There is a scene in the show now that wasn’t there until very recently. It was a piece I did at a couple book launches. People reacted to it so strongly I thought maybe it should be in the show. Once I put it in, it suggested other changes. It’s made for a significantly better show, I think. Eventually, I discover the best way to tell the story, and then it stays pretty much as scripted.

For a review of Bob Bossin’s Davy the Punk: A Story of Bookies, Toronto the Good, the Mob and My Dad, see page “A family underworld” by Robert Matas in this week’s issue. For more on the one-man show, visit the website davythepunk.com.

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

Naomi Steinberg’s Storytelling Festival is fast approaching

Naomi Steinberg (photo by Diane Smithers)

Clearly, creativity and community involvement run in the Steinberg family. In the April 25 issue of the JI, readers heard from Myriam Steinberg, artistic director of the upcoming In the House Festival. This week, her sister Naomi Steinberg talks to the JI about her work as the executive director of the Vancouver Society of Storytelling, which is hosting its 20th Storytelling Festival June 13-15 at various venues around the city.

The Storytelling Festival presents tellers and stories from across the spectrum of custom and culture and this year’s theme, A Cabinet of Curiosities, is in keeping with the festival’s mandate of multiculturalism and education. Close to 30 storytellers will be highlighted over the course of three days. There will be First Nations stories, a Persian epic called “The Shahnameh,” family time stories and a panel discussion on storytelling for social change.

Storytelling is the oldest form of social communication, the oral tradition of passing down fables, legends, fairy tales and myths from generation to generation. It makes us aware of our history, provides an environment to share experiences and can be an effective tool for education and change. Steinberg is passionate about her craft, which she emphasized involves being able to listen, as much as being able to tell.

“A teller is a visual artist who paints with words and carves air with her/his tongue.”

“I do not want to denigrate digital storytelling, but the oral format is its own high art form. A teller is a visual artist who paints with words and carves air with her/his tongue.” As far as the local Society of Storytelling is concerned, she said, there are two aspects to storytelling, the actual telling, the entertainment piece, and then its application in the community setting to encourage social change, the educational piece. “We run the biannual festival and then in the in-between years we focus on a community project,” Steinberg explained. “We are also committed to bringing storytelling into schools.”

Last year, the society was involved with the St. George Rainway Project, a community-driven initiative to recall an historic waterway in Mount Pleasant. Last fall, 13 student stewards were selected from Mount Pleasant Elementary School to guide the community through the area and tell the story of the lost stream within the street right of way along St. George Street from Kingsway to East 13th Avenue. Part of the project was to build a storyteller’s bench at the headwaters of the creek – to leave a legacy to the neighborhood. “It was a day of community engagement and learning and showed what green redesign of a block could bring,” Steinberg said. “It encouraged dialogue and debate amongst the residents of the area. It was a great success.”

Another project was based on the five elements: air, earth, fire, metal and water. “We worked in five different communities, each focusing on exploring one of the elements through storytelling and community participation,” she explained. “We ended with a bike/bus tour to each of the five areas to view the projects. It was a unique way of highlighting the outreach possibilities of storytelling.”

Storytelling is also about preserving one’s culture. Yet different cultures can put a different spin on the same story, an example of that, Steinberg noted, is the story of the North Shore Twin Peaks – known as the Lions. “In the 1880s, British immigrants, who constituted the majority of British Columbia residents, commemorated their colonial roots by naming the two peaks after the famous crouching Lions of London’s Trafalgar Square. However, even before one British foot touched West Coast soil, the aboriginal peoples had their own mythology of the ‘Twin Sisters,’ who helped save their tribe from extinction by making peace with a warring neighbor tribe and, for this deed, were immortalized and set forever in a high place as the two peaks.”

There was very little “the Wandering Jew” could carry with him to preserve his memory as he was forced out of his home in various countries, so he took his stories, with their wisdom, humor and pathos.

Storytelling knows no ethnic or cultural boundaries; every culture has its folklore. Judaism is no exception. There was very little “the Wandering Jew” could carry with him to preserve his memory as he was forced out of his home in various countries, so he took his stories, with their wisdom, humor and pathos.

The position of a storyteller was often revered in a society. Steinberg laughed as she talked about the night she told her grandparents that she was a storyteller, in response to a query about what she was doing for a living.

“I was afraid to tell them and was very surprised when they congratulated me for being part of an honorable tradition, that of a maggid. This was an endorsement at the highest level for me.”

Steinberg has traveled around the world telling stories and presenting workshops. Of all the stories she has told, her favorite is based on an Iraqi-Kurdish Jewish fairytale called “The Wonderful Healing Leaves” from a book of Jewish folklore edited by Howard Schwartz.

After four years with the society, Steinberg said she is leaving for a year and a half abroad to gather material for her upcoming Fringe Festival production that explores the French roots of her maternal grandmother.

About why people should come to the festival, Steinberg said, “They will get a deepened appreciation of Vancouver, its landscapes, its indigenous population and its various cultural communities. They will be entertained and they will see that storytelling is fun, educational and simple, you don’t need a lot of props to participate.”

As to the future of oral storytelling, Steinberg was emphatic, “Nothing replaces heart-to-heart, face-to-face, breath-to-breath interactions. Even when you are just listening to a story, you are using more than your ears, it is an emotional experience that involves your heart and soul. The digital world is not going to take over this form of communication, ever.”

For more information and a list of the festival’s storytellers and venues, visit the website vancouverstorytelling.org.

Tova Kornfeld is a Vancouver freelance writer and lawyer.

A family underworld – Bossin and Lansky

Children rarely pay much attention to what their parents are doing. Children of parents on the wrong side of the law are no different. They may overhear conversations around the house, they may see headlines in the media but they do not really connect the dots. Two books this spring offer portraits from the criminal world: years after their fathers died, the daughter of notorious New York mobster Meyer Lansky and the son of Toronto bookie Davy Bossin look back with fondness for their dads.

Both men were in illegal gambling. In fact, stories about some characters mentioned in one of these books are fleshed out in the other. However, the families led extremely different lives. Lansky, who organized “organized crime,” lived in unbound luxury, while Bossin, a bookie who worked for people who were Lansky associates, had a more modest life. Yet both fathers were sons of Jewish immigrant families who came to North America in the early 20th century. Born three years apart, their Jewish roots were never far from the surface, regardless of what else they did.

Canadian folksinger Bob Bossin tells the story of his father in Davy the Punk: A Story of Bookies, Toronto the Good, the Mob and My Dad (Porcupine’s Quill). Bossin was 17 years old when his father died in 1963. He searches to understand what his father did, piecing together an image from recollections of family and friends, newspaper clippings and official government records. With his talent for storytelling and sense of wry humor, Bossin provides a cinematically rich narrative that allows readers to feel they are eavesdropping on conversations among close friends who are not such bad guys. It’s easy to picture the circle of seasoned Jewish men sitting around a coffee-stained table, telling tales.

book cover - Davy the Punk — Bob Bossin tells the story of his father in *Davy the Punk*.

Bossin frankly admits that some of the anecdotes he recounts may be not completely true. He comes from a family of storytellers who, he says, quoting U.S. journalist A.J. Liebling, diverge from recorded history “only to improve upon it.” In this world, a good story trumps just about anything else.

Bossin begins at a Toronto ballpark, Maple Leaf Stadium, where his father’s cronies swap stories, argue politics and only incidentally watch baseball. They talk about Benny the Shoykhet, who was a bookie and kept a few kosher chickens in case of a police raid, and Arnie “the Shnook” Schneider, who was busted for bookmaking 67 times but was never sent to jail. Mysteriously, the court lost records of previous incidents and considered each arrest as a first offence.

With stories about his grandparents, Bossin places his family inside the historical moments of a generation of Jews who emigrated to North America from Eastern Europe in the early 20th century. Davy was born a few months later, in 1905, on a ship taking his grandmother to reunite with his grandfather in Toronto.

The Bossins remained poor and continued to feel the sting of antisemitism in Canada – Eaton’s and other stores would not hire Jews, for example. But, in Canada, there were no pogroms. The Bossins, like other Jews, were left alone to live their lives.

Bossin believes that his father quickly abandoned his Judaism in the New World, but a small spark remained. Every week, his father went back to his parents’ home for Shabbat dinner.

The family finally escaped poverty and prejudice through horses. Bossin cautions that his account may not be exactly true but, if it is, his father was 11 years old when legendary racetrack owner Abram Orpen brought him into the gambling business. By the age of 17, his father was a “tout,” who hung around the racetrack offering tips to betters. Eventually, he became “a lay-off artist.” Bossin explains that bookies spread their risk of unexpected losses by laying off bets, similar to re-insurance in the insurance industry. Arnold Rothstein, a powerful U.S. gangster best known as the man who fixed the 1919 World Series, developed the system for bookies across North America.

As “a bookie’s bookie,” his father avoided run-ins with the law for almost 20 years. His father was also involved in broadcasting horse-race results for bookmakers from tracks across the country. He ran the Toronto operation for U.S. gangsters, eventually having more than 50 phones in his home. Police repeatedly tried to close him down, beginning in 1939, but the only penalty he ever paid was a $10 fine for running a business out of his home.

Every incident mentioned in the book leads to another engaging story about his father’s circle of friends, punters, gangsters or the occasional crackdown on gambling. Bossin’s father, who is lovingly portrayed as a quiet, generous man, moved from horses to nightclubs in the early 1950s, running Theatrical Attractions, a talent agency that booked stars such as Sammy Davis Jr. and Ella Fitzgerald. He managed the Crew Cuts before they had big hits. Davy died at the age of 58.

Excellent storyteller that he is, Bossin saves one of his best stories for the closing. He discovers his mother had an affair shortly before he was born. Was Davy really his father? He decides, yes. “It was on Davy’s knee, or beside him at Maple Leaf Stadium, or tucked between him and his cronies at a delicatessen, that I learned that nothing beats a good story. No question about it, I am Davy’s son.”

***

In Daughter of the King: Growing Up in Gangland (Weinstein Books), Sandra Lansky, assisted by writer William Stadiem, writes mostly about her own life. Along the way, she offers a complimentary portrait of her father.

Meyer Lansky got his start in booze and illegal gambling during Prohibition. Once liquor became legal, he became a nightclub impresario. At the front of the house, he had A-list entertainers; at the back, he ran glamorous but illegal gambling dens. He operated clubs with partners across the country. He was accused, but never convicted, of establishing his businesses through a network of associates who relied on graft, bribery and murder.

book cover - Daughter of the King — Similar to Bob Bossin, Sandra Lansky was also unaware of her father’s activities as she was growing up.

In the late 1950s, shortly before the Cuban Revolution, Lansky opened a luxurious casino in Havana. The good life evaporated after Fidel Castro shut down the casino in 1960. Once Lansky returned to Miami, Robert Kennedy and the FBI launched an aggressive crackdown on organized crime, with Lansky clearly a target. However, when he was finally brought to trial in 1973, he was acquitted.

Similar to Bossin, Lansky was also unaware of her father’s activities as she was growing up. She was a teenager before she heard anything about his reputation, and she never confronted him to find out if the accusations were true. A loyal and loving daughter, she portrays government efforts to stop gangland murders and illegal gambling as unwarranted campaigns against a hardworking businessman. For her, gangsters Frank Costello and Bugsy Siegel were uncles, not the kingpins of criminal networks.

Although she knew many of the mobsters, she includes no new revelations about the mob. Instead, she offers Oprah-type admissions about her upbringing as a spoiled rich kid, her torrid affairs with Dean Martin and others, her disastrous marriage and her drug addiction. With its irritatingly sassy tone and sordid tales of decadence, the book makes it difficult to like, or even be sympathetic, to any of the people in her life.

Her father moved much further away from his Jewish heritage than did Davy Bossin, so far that his daughter did not realize she was Jewish until she was a teenager. She writes that her parents did not see themselves as Jewish. But she relates that she found out her father in the late 1930s used his muscle men to break up Nazi rallies on the Upper East Side and helped mobilize dockworkers to root out Nazi sympathizers during the war. He also provided arms and money to Israel in 1948.

When authorities came after him in the 1950s, he responded viscerally to the barely concealed antisemitic and anti-immigrant bigotry of the crusaders. “I will not let you prosecute me because I am a Jew,” he defiantly told them. In the 1970s, he tried – unsuccessfully – to escape U.S. crime busters by claiming citizenship in Israel, where his grandparents were buried.

Meyer Lansky died of lung cancer at 81. Forbes had estimated his net worth at $300 million. But where was the money? The family never found it. At least, that’s what his daughter says.

Media consultant Robert Matas, a former Globe and Mail journalist, still reads books. Both of the books reviewed here are available at the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library. To reserve them, 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.

A Vancouver Jew in Camelot

The cast of Spamalot, with Josh Epstein at centre, on one knee. (photo by David Cooper)

In any great adventure,
that you don’t want to lose,
victory depends upon the people that you choose.
So, listen, Arthur darling, closely to this news:
We won’t succeed on Broadway,
If you don’t have any Jews.

– Sir Robin, Spamalot

Of all the Monty Python films, perhaps none has deposited as many “Pythonisms” as Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Who can forget the airspeed of an African swallow, horse hoofs portrayed by empty coconut halves, the knights who say “ni,” the killer rabbit and, that old chestnut, “It’s only a flesh wound.”

Produced in 1975, Holy Grail was the second in a string of five successful Python films that included And Now for Something Completely Different (1971), Life of Brian (1979), Live at the Hollywood Bowl (1982) and The Meaning of Life (1983).

Funny thing is, although I’ve seen Holy Grail perhaps a dozen times over the years, I don’t recall the presence of a giant Magen David dangling in a spotlight as the cast sings, “You haven’t got a clue if you don’t have a Jew.” Call me crazy but I don’t think that was in the original.

But then Spamalot does not suggest that it’s anything other than a rip off (albeit lovingly done), so, although it’s based on the movie, be prepared for the use of monumental artistic licence. And yet, what better piece for physical comedian/actor/musical theatre devotee Josh Epstein to sing as he prances around the stage in one of the funniest performances you’ll see this year.

photo - Josh Epstein, as the taunting Frenchman in Spamalot — Josh Epstein, as the taunting Frenchman in Spamalot. *(photo by David Cooper)*

Epstein has already proven his prowess in memorable productions such as The Producers in 2008 and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in 2010. But seeing him frolic in chain mail, bedecked with Orlando Bloom hair, or hurling brilliant insults as a French soldier wearing the equivalent of a Conehead helmet, is gut-wrenchingly hysterical.

For those not familiar with the story, the plot centres on King Arthur’s attempt to round up some knights (or “ke-nicts” as Epstein mispronounces in his French “aksant”) to search for the grail. On his path, he encounters challenges of outrageous (in size and humor) proportions. He can’t even convince the local serfs that he deserves their respect as a king after relating how he acquired the title from the Lady of the Lake. “Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is a bad way to choose a government,” he is told.

The hapless Arthur (David Marr) continues undaunted, however, eventually rounding up four knights – the Homicidally Brave Sir Lancelot (Jay Hindle); Sir Robin, the Not-Quite-So-Brave-as-Sir-Lancelot (Epstein); Sir Galahad, the Dashingly Handsome (Jonathan Winsby); and Sir Bedevere, the Strangely Flatulent (Ashley O’Connell). His biggest challenge comes when he is told by the knights who say “ni” that he can only continue his quest if he puts on a successful Broadway musical.

“Can it be done?” he asks Sir Robin. Yes, he responds, but only if you have Jews in the production. After all, “It’s a very small percentile who want to see a dancing gentile.”

Enter the Magen David, a menorah on a piano and four knights and one king who suddenly transform into Chassidic Yiddim.

As it turns out, Arthur’s sidekick Patsy is a member of the tribe, but has been keeping it a secret.

“It’s not the sort of thing you say to a heavily armed Christian,” he responds to Arthur when asked why he was not forthcoming.

Beyond the brilliant writing, kudos have to be given to choreographer Lisa Stevens and costume coordinator Rebekka Sorensen-Kjelstrup. The look, the sound and the dancing all elevate the production into stratospheric entertainment.

Monty Python’s Spamalot, with book and lyrics by Eric Idle, runs until June 29 at the Arts Club’s Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage, artsclub.com. Warning: profane language.

Baila Lazarus is a freelance writer, editor and photographer. Her work can be seen at orchiddesigns.net.

Amber Funk Barton premières piece with lululemon tie-in

The Art of Stealing grew from Barton’s desire to explore what’s considered right and wrong in a post-apocalyptic world. (photo by Chris Barton)

When Amber Funk Barton was constantly dancing around her house at the age of 4, she didn’t realize that one day she would become a professional dancer and choreographer. But the Vancouver-born artist, now 33, is living her dream. Her latest production, The Art of Stealing, created by her choreography company, the response, premières on May 28 at the Firehall Arts Centre.

“I didn’t think I had a future as a professional dancer, I thought choreography was one way I could still be involved in dance,” said Barton. “My dream was to have my own company and to choreograph.”

The Art of Stealing grew from Barton’s desire to explore a dark theme, what she describes as a “post-apocalyptic world” and the difficulties in understanding what’s right and wrong in this haunted, mysterious future.

“The small picture is the obvious thing – the obvious literal act of stealing, that’s physical, taking something physical without consent,” she said. “I found it very interesting in this post-apocalyptic world that all of sudden it’s OK to steal – and if you don’t steal, you’re gonna die. It’s related to survival. On the bigger level, I started really thinking about it – the stealing that we can’t control at all – our time, our energy, our youth. Essentially to me, death is the ultimate thief in life.”

The 60-minute piece is the third full-length work that the response has created. Established in 2008, the company’s two previous pieces, RISK (2008) and Portraits and Scenes of Female Creatures (2011), also premièred at the Firehall.

photo - choreographer and dancer Amber Funk Barton — Choreographer and dancer Amber Funk Barton. *(photo by Chris Barton)*

Although Barton said she had been dancing since she was a little girl, she only started dancing professional at 21. Perhaps her maiden name, “Funk,” was a glimpse of the career trajectory her life would take.

But Barton isn’t just making her mark in the dance world. While creating the piece, she teamed up with active-wear clothing line lululemon’s innovation hub, called lululemon lab. “The lab is very inspired by different groups in the community and works with them to make functional fashion for people specifically in our community,” said Barton. She was introduced to Jean Okada, team director at lululemon lab, who was impressed by Barton’s creative piece.

“She came up with the idea that she would like to pitch what the lab calls a capsule collection. So they essentially designed our costumes,” said Barton. In addition to designing the dancers’ costumes, they created a collaborative clothing line, which launched last week, on May 16. “They’re selling it in stores and we’re wearing [that] same clothing on stage. It’s a really beautiful exchange,” Funk said. The clothing is in line with the dance piece’s theme – it’s dark and edgy and promotes Barton’s unique ideas about the struggle for survival in a dark world. The limited edition capsule collection produced three pieces for women and three for men and will be available only until the items are sold out.

“First of all, having a line designed is beyond what I was imaging in the first place. It was amazing. They had such respect for what we were doing as artists. They asked dancers thorough questions, what our needs are. I was able to share images and whatever I had collected in terms of inspiration. They actually took what I wanted and integrated it into the line. I was part of fittings. It was beyond what I was hoping for,” said Barton.

Reflecting on her beginnings and how far she’s come, Barton said, “I started dancing probably around 4 years old and it was with ballet and I had some kind of alignment issues. I had weak mobility in my legs so the doctor recommended ice skating or dance to strengthen the alignment of my legs. My mom noticed I was dancing around the house all the time anyways and she also didn’t want to sit in an ice rink at 5 a.m., so she enrolled me in ballet classes and that’s basically how it all started.”

Now, she wants to focus on choreography and creating more unique pieces, as she embarks on what she calls her “mid-career artist years.”

“I feel very fortunate and very grateful,” she said. “My company is a small, project-based company. It’s like a little home where I can make what I’m interested in and make my art. Sometimes I just pinch myself.”

The Art of Stealing is on stage May 28-31 at the Firehall Arts Centre. There is an artist talk back after the performance on Thursday, May 29. For tickets, contact the Firehall at 604-689-0926 or visit firehallartscentre.ca.

Vicky Tobianah is a freelance writer and editor based in Toronto. Connect with her on Twitter, @vicktob, or at vtobianah@gmail.com.

Reenvisioning women at the Zack

The centrepieces of the show, two large paintings by Jazmin Sasky, are both based on Anita Diamant’s novel The Red Tent. (photo by Olga Livshin)

Across centuries, artists in different countries have depicted women in their multiple incarnations – among them, mother, muse, beloved, temptress. The new show at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery, called Envisioning Women, brings a new slant to the theme: how 21st-century Canadian artists see women.

The centrepieces of the show, two large paintings by Jazmin Sasky, are both based on Anita Diamant’s novel The Red Tent and, therefore, on the Torah. The women in the paintings could be just as easily from biblical or contemporary times, friends going on a camping trip or visiting a spa. The paintings’ festive red palette with its multiple nuances communicates the women’s contentment at being together, sharing the space. While the red tent in the novel refers to a place reserved for the females of the tribe, a place where they find mutual support and encouragement, in the paintings, the space alludes to a wider interpretation.

“I explored the sisterhood of women,” said Sasky. “It’s as relevant today as it was then, although in the biblical times, they all lived together. No secrets were possible, unlike us. We are much more private, but it was interesting to imagine those women, their lives.”

Her women don’t belong exclusively to the ancient tribe. They also live in the here and now, share our workspace and our holidays, walk along the same streets and into the same buildings. They are not afraid of change, of bursting out of the artificial confines of the “red tent” and into life.

photo - In Lori-Ann Latremouille’s “Emerging,” a woman transforms out of her restrictive silken shroud into wings and the world — In Lori-Ann Latremouille’s “Emerging,” a woman transforms out of her restrictive silken shroud into wings and the world. *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

This courage and strength resonates in many other works in the show. The women in them assert their place in history and are willing to rebel, if necessary.

Nancy Henderson’s painting with the title “Sk8r grrl one” is one example of such a rebellion. It depicts a young female hockey player in a ridiculous costume of the beginning of the 20th century. The artist’s fiery words about her work read as a tribute to every Canadian woman: “I salute women of every generation who have defied everything from societal disapproval to outright bullying in order to get into every game, including the great frozen one.”

Carly Belzberg’s “Eve” doesn’t look like a traditional Eve of old either. This Eve participates; she gets into games. In her shorts and a tank top, sitting in a meditation pose, perhaps doing yoga, she is not afraid of the world unfolding around her, and her quiet courage transmits to everyone who comes into the gallery.

Life is changing, and we’re changing with it, coming out of our traditional cocoon of domesticity, where women were confined (by choice and not) for generations – that seems to be the message of the show.

Lori-Ann Latremouille’s painting “Emerging” embodies this idea. Her woman is transforming out of her restrictive silken shroud into wings and the world. She will fly and sing, and the guitar incorporated into the image signifies the connection between music and freedom. “Rebirth after dormancy,” commented the artist. Not surprisingly, she is a professional musician herself, and her painting is a story of metamorphosis. “It’s a new painting technique for me, too. I used to do drawings,” she said.

photo - In her photography, Kathryn Gibson O’Regan tries to “find what unites women of all times and cultures” — In her photography, Kathryn Gibson O’Regan tries to “find what unites women of all times and cultures.” *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

The line of timelessness, of connectivity, continues in Kathryn Gibson O’Regan’s serene photographs. “I travel a lot and always try to find what unites women of all times and cultures. Creativity is common: weaving and spinning and making textiles, from the Bible to our times. I visited villages in many countries in Asia.” Her photos of the weavers in India and Thailand emanate peacefulness, their deep colors soft and bright simultaneously.

In contrast, there is little that is peaceful in Linda Lewis’ display of pottery cups. Each one has a face painted on it, or rather a hint of a face, the eyes. They are called collectively “Hints.” About two dozen of the cups are arranged in two glass cases in the middle of the gallery, similar in shape and size, but varied in their facial expression. Some cups stand in groups, like friends gossiping. Others are alone, in pain or pleasure. Still others resemble family clans, with love and antipathy intermixed. The whimsical complexity of women’s lives in pottery is fresh and unexpected.

It’s impossible in a short article to tell about each of the 15 artists participating in the exhibit – all of them add their unique perspective to the image of “contemporary woman,” and readers are encouraged to visit the gallery. Unfortunately, they won’t be able to experience one aspect of the show – the JCC Shalom Dancers. As the exhibit is in collaboration with Festival Ha’Rikud, its opening night featured a group of young dancers, led by Marla Simcoff and Jessica Bradbury, who presented a short but beautiful routine, a teaser of their full-length performance. Six young women in long black dresses, trimmed with red and yellow, with large red fans, danced in the atrium of the community centre, bringing dramatic energy and gladness to gallery patrons. They were the real-life embodiment of the paintings, women of the 21st century.

Envisioning Women will be on display until May 25.

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

David Mamet’s Oleanna still prompts debate

Susan Coodin as Carol and Anthony F. Ingram as John in Bleeding Heart’s Oleanna. (photo by Adam Blasberg)

David Mamet’s controversial play Oleanna set up home in Vancouver this spring. By coincidence, two small theatre companies programmed the two-actor drama for around the same time and the result is several weeks of heated conflict, on stage and off. For more than 20 years, audiences have argued about the play, about what really happened to Carol in John’s office. Possible answers continue to turn up as the play is produced over and over again around the world.

The Mamet on Main production ran from April 19-27 at Little Mountain Gallery. The second production, by Bleeding Heart Theatre, runs from May 6-18 at Havana Theatre on Commercial Drive.

Recently, Mamet is better known for his books of essays, polemics against antisemitism (The Wicked Son: Anti-Semitism, Self-hatred and the Jews, 2006) and against the American left (The Secret Knowledge: On the Dismantling of American Culture, 2011), but he remains one of America’s greatest 20th-century playwrights. Oleanna is among his most successful and frequently produced works, along with Glengarry Glen Ross (Pulitzer Prize 1984), American Buffalo and Speed-the-Plow. Oleanna remains current because actors and directors love to engage with the challenging piece and audiences can still be electrified by the emotional battle for power.

In the play, a young college student named Carol visits her professor, John, in his office looking for help. She’s failing his course and doesn’t know what to do. John offers to tutor her and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. In the next scene, we are back in John’s office but Carol is no longer looking for his help. She has filed a written complaint accusing John of sexually harassing her. He beseeches her to see reason and to withdraw the complaint. John’s job and entire future are at stake.

Was she harassed? We, the audience, were there when it happened, but nothing is clear.

According to theatre legend, back in the early 1990s when this play premièred, arguments broke out in theatre lobbies over what John had done and what he meant by it. Many saw the play as misogynistic, and an attack on feminism. The taint of that accusation remains, which may be one reason actors and directors today are eager to reconsider the play and see what is really there.

“Mamet obviously believes this is a balanced argument, a dialectic about the nature of power in our educational institutions,” said Evan Frayne, director of the Bleeding Heart production. Frayne’s other directing credits include The Verona Project and The Foreigner for Pacific Theatre. He said one big challenge with Oleanna is choreographing the moments of physical contact between the two characters.

… the only stage direction for one such moment is: “He puts his hand on her shoulder.”

“The nature of how he touches her,” said Frayne, “becomes the crux of the play.” He notes that the only stage direction for one such moment is: “He puts his hand on her shoulder.” So, the director must decide how chaste or sexual or ambiguous the touch is to be. “It’s how far and how long,” he says of the simple touch. “Can that be something more than just a hand on the shoulder, or someone comforting someone else?”

He said he regards the historic controversy around the play as specific to those earlier productions. “My interpretation of what the controversy is about is a lot of people think that the character of John is more fully realized than the character of Carol. People say she’s simply trying to take down this good professor, which I think is not true.”

To Frayne, language itself is the source of the trouble. “I see this as a language play about education,” he said. Both characters are “stuck” with English, which is full of traps, he suggested. Male dominance is built into the language, he said, especially in a university setting.

The Mamet on Main production, which has closed, made the characters equal combatants. Director Quelemia Stacey Sparrow gave us a powerfully intelligent Carol and an insecure, clueless John. Pandora Morgan played a young woman temporarily overwhelmed by the demands of first-year university. Her confidence shaken, she looks for advice and reassurance from her professor. David Bloom’s John was a nervous man more at home pontificating than speaking plainly. He wants to help his student, but is too self-absorbed to treat her with respect. Instead, he regards her as something damaged that he can fix. This insults her and gives him licence to treat her like his own child and so to inappropriately touch and console her.

Bloom, who played the professor, is a seasoned local actor who teaches on faculty at Capilano University and Langara College. He said by telephone he was initially reluctant to take the role because the production he had seen 20 years ago made the play seem pretty one-sided and he had no interest. Upon reading the script, however, “I found Carol’s arguments more compelling than I remember from when I saw the show,” he said.

He said both characters behave badly. “Both are deeply flawed human beings who do some pretty horrible things,” he said.

Mamet on Main would like to remount its production at some point, said Bloom. “We don’t feel like we’ve explored the whole thing and we’re interested in working on it further,” he said.

Susan Coodin, Carol in the current Bleeding Heart production, had never seen or read the play before embarking on the current production. The University of British Columbia graduate who has many theatre credits, including Bard on the Beach performances, said by phone she was drawn to the script by the character of Carol. She identified, she said, with Carol’s life as a young person in a university setting. She was aware that in past productions Carol has been portrayed as heartless and vindictive, but Coodin said she took a fresh look at the role.

“I knew that there was more to her than what was on the surface,” she said, “and I was really interested in finding her truth and what she believes to be true.”

Coodin sympathized with the character who needs John’s help and validation so much, but who never properly receives it. “It’s hard to come to terms with what she has to do to find herself. I wanted to find her sensitivity and her compassion and her desire to connect with John, with her professor, and she seems to be consistently denied that.”

In the end, she said, Carol finds security and a new maturity through the work she does with her “group,” an amorphous organization never fully defined for the audience. Carol is “a sensitive person, but she also comes to realize that there is a cause bigger than herself and her relationships, that gives her confidence and she comes to find herself through her cause,” said Coodin.

The artists involved with both productions agreed that Oleanna is a sophisticated, well-written drama that can support a variety of readings. This is the sign of great dramatic literature and Vancouver has been fortunate to see two different interpretations of this classic script by one of America’s greatest playwrights.

For tickets to the Bleeding Heart production, visit bleedinghearttheatre.com.

Michael Groberman is a Vancouver freelance writer.

Ben Ratner takes risks on and off stage

Ben Ratner (photo from Kindred Entertainment)

Ben Ratner is a man of many talents with an impressive resumé – boxer, musician, artist, stand-up comedian, actor, writer, producer and director – a Jewish Renaissance man, but more importantly, he’s down-to-earth mensch. On a rainy Saturday afternoon, Ratner sat down with the Independent in his shabby chic east side Haven Studio to talk about his current film and theatre projects.

Hot off his success with his award-winning film Down River, which he wrote, produced and directed, he is presently at the helm of the Canadian première of Tommy Smith’s White Hot, which opened May 8 and runs until May 17 at the Shop Theatre at 125 East 2nd Ave.

Down River is a tribute to his late friend and mentor Babz Chula, a local actor who succumbed to cancer in 2010 at the age of 64. “Babz was ageless, she could bridge the gap between a kid in a sandbox and a wise old lady wrapped up in her shawl. She was this petite little thing, but so full of life and energy. In 2003, she played my mother in the first feature film I wrote and directed, Moving Malcolm. We were very close,” said Ratner.

The film is a poignant mix of humor and drama and locally shot. It tells the story of four women, who all live in the same West End apartment building, three 20-/30-somethings (Gabrielle Miller, Colleen Rennison and Jennifer Spence, Ratner’s real-life wife) and a middle-aged divorcée (Helen Shaver), each struggling with a personal crisis; the younger ones searching for their identities and life purpose and Pearl, the older character, providing guidance in the midst of battling with pancreatic cancer. The film has been described as “eschewing cliché in a thoughtful, well-acted look at several generations of women at a crossroads in their lives.”

As to the Jewish aspect of the film, Ratner pointed out, “We never actually say that Pearl is Jewish in the film, but the hints are there, the menorah in the window in her apartment and the memorial service, which we shot inside the Or Shalom Synagogue.”

Chula’s presence is felt more than just as inspiration for the subject matter of the film. Pearl wears some of Chula’s clothes in various scenes, items from her apartment are used as props, the three young women each wear one of her signature bracelets, and Spence wears her “Coke-bottle glasses.” The letter read at Pearl’s memorial service is an abridged version of what Ratner shared with attendees at Chula’s celebration of life. Ratner’s own large-scale abstract canvases are used as the art gallery props. The addition of these personal touches makes the film intimate and engaging.

Down River has garnered more accolades than Ratner imagined it would. “We had 99-percent positive reviews and a warm response from audiences, and I saw how my film could affect people. They come out of the theatre smiling but blowing their noses. This story is not about dying, it is about living without fear.” Audiences voted Down River Most Popular Canadian Film at the 2013 Vancouver International Film Festival and critics named it the Best B.C. Film of 2013. It has been nominated for 13 Leos and is presently making the rounds of the North American film festival circuit.

photo - White Hot is on stage at Shop Theatre until May 17. — *White Hot* is on stage at Shop Theatre until May 17. *(photo from Kindred Entertainment)*

While Ratner is basking in the glow of the success of his cinematic opus, he is focusing his directing talents on the intimate world of black-box theatre with White Hot. The press release describes it as “a darkly comedic psycho-drama crammed into a love triangle between a troubled woman, her opportunistic husband and her trashed sister.” Ratner explained, “I am doing this play with my colleague, Loretta Walsh, who teaches with me in my acting studio. Her character is a great part for her terrific acting skills and brings the message that one should remain hopeful and strong and dignified no matter how brutal the circumstances. It is a dark play, unapologetically harsh, violent and sexually explicit. It is a risk for us to do the play. Not everyone is going to like it. But that is not going to stop us from going there.”

Ratner quoted playwright John Patrick Shandley (Doubt) in making his point: “Theatre is a safe place to do unsafe things that need to be done.” He continued, “ We could have done a crowd pleaser, but that is not what we are all about; this play will offend. However, I do not do theatre in order to aim for the middle. I need to do something to wake up this town and challenge the actors on a level that is not just about playing a part but finding some real humanity to it. There is no resolution at the end of this play, no answer, just an acceptance by the characters of the way things are.”

Not content with only personal success, Ratner is teaching future generations of actors in his studio. “Being a teacher is the most satisfying thing I have ever done. It enables me to have a purpose beyond my own gain. It allows me to give and not just take.”

And, there are plans for the future. “Long term, I will be teaching for the rest of my life. Short term, I want to make another film and reach bigger audiences. Down River was all about women. I am now working on another film that will be about men working through their mid-life crises.” In response to whether that topic is autobiographical (Ratner is 49), he laughed, “There’s always a bit of you in everything you write.”

For information and tickets to White Hot, visit kindredentertainment.com.

Tova Kornfeld is a Vancouver freelance writer and lawyer.

Film spotlights dance as a way to forge peace partners

Dancing in Jaffa follows dance instructor Pierre Dulaine as he teaches 11-year-old Israelis and Palestinians. (photo from Tiara Blu Films)

Going back at least as far as 2001’s Promises, most recent documentaries that have opted for an optimistic slant on the Israeli-Palestinian situation have centred on children. The next generation, to be sure, is the universal embodiment of hope. But betting on today’s children to solve a problem down the road is tacit acknowledgement that today’s adults aren’t up to the task – or so those who see the Mideast glass as half-empty might say.

Both perspectives are skillfully interwoven in Dancing in Jaffa, a nuanced, feel-good study of cross-cultural fence-hopping in which the best traits in human nature vie with street-level realities.

The movie’s motor is world-champion ballroom dancer and teacher Pierre Dulaine, who returns to his hometown after many years with the self-proclaimed goal of giving something back. Perennially dressed in a starched shirt and tie, and fluent in Arabic, English and French, the grey-haired Dulaine is a cosmopolitan alien in a working-class town.

The indefatigable Dulaine is a lifelong proponent of partnered dancing as a way to develop social skills and self-confidence but, in Jaffa, he’s determined to apply his pedagogy to an even greater good. His plan is to teach merengue, rhumba and tango to 11-year-olds at various schools, culminating with young Jewish and Palestinian Israelis dancing together in a public ballroom dance competition.

“This is how you learn to work with another person,” Dulaine offhandedly remarks to one child while correcting his form. It’s a lovely sentiment, one that will gradually sink in after the student has become comfortable with the steps and can actually look at and interact with his or her partner.

There’s an unpredictability and bumpiness to Dulaine’s mission, at least initially, that negates the comforting formula that some viewers will expect. Most of the kids are shy, embarrassed and downright resistant to engaging with the opposite sex, even without the Islamic prohibition on touching someone of the opposite sex. (None of the Jewish kids are Orthodox.)

While boys will be boys and girls will be girls, Dulaine perseveres with firmness, as well as affection. Progress in the classroom can be hard to discern, however, so the film provides glimpses of the home lives of three children to suggest their individual blossoming.

Hilla Medalia, the prolific Israeli-born producer and/or director of such documentaries as To Die in Jerusalem and Numbered, again displays her talent for gaining access, winning trust and crafting small, revealing moments. The most memorable are political rather than interpersonal, and occur on the street rather than in someone’s home. The arrival in town of an intentionally intimidating group of right-wing Israelis chanting some variation of “Jaffa for the Jews” provides buzz-killing evidence that conciliation is not everyone’s goal.

An illuminating sequence contrasting the observance of Independence Day at a Jewish school with its description as the Nakba (Catastrophe) at a Palestinian Israeli school likewise underscores Medalia’s preference for presenting reality rather than peddling fantasy.

In this regard, she and Dulaine are perfectly in step. He was four years old when he left Jaffa with his Palestinian mother and Irish father during the War of Independence, and he’s chagrined but not surprised when his request to re-enter his family’s old home is summarily rejected by the Jewish owners.

Consistent with the theme that the future is more important than the past, Dulaine’s presence in the film steadily diminishes. We, and he, are left with the satisfaction that individual children have grown and glimpsed possibilities they couldn’t have imagined. A small victory, perhaps, compared to a lasting resolution to the ongoing conflict? Even a pessimist wouldn’t have the chutzpah to call a child’s transformation a “small victory.”

Dancing in Jaffa, in Hebrew, Arabic and English with English subtitles, played at the Vancouver Jewish Film Festival in November 2013 and has yet to have a Canadian release date scheduled. It’s on a limited release in the United States. The film currently has a rating of 100 percent on Rotten Tomatoes.

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

New biography of Cornelia Hahn Oberlander focuses on her work

In 1963, landscape architect Cornelia Hahn Oberlander was appalled when she saw park workers at Jericho Beach burning logs that had broken away from booms. She called up Bill Livingston, the Vancouver Park Board superintendent, and suggested placing the logs along the sandy beaches for people to sit on. Livingston thought it was a good idea.

Fifty years later, it’s often hard during the summer months to find a vacant spot along one of the logs lining Vancouver’s beaches. Changing the landscape of the city’s beaches is one of many ways in which Oberlander has contributed to making Vancouver one of the world’s most livable cities. However, despite being Canada’s preeminent landscape architect, Oberlander remains unknown to most of the people who enjoy the benefits of her work, and Susan Herrington, professor of architecture and landscape architecture at the University of British Columbia, sets out to raise Oberlander’s profile with the recently released biography Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, Making the Modern Landscape.

image - Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, Making the Modern Landscape book cover — *Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, Making the Modern Landscape* comes after several public tributes and publications about Oberlander’s achievements.

The book comes after several public tributes and publications about Oberlander’s achievements, including an extensive oral history available online at the Cultural Landscape Foundation (tclf.org) and a biography for teens called Live Every Leaf: The Life of Landscape Architect Cornelia Hahn Oberlander (2008). Oberlander has also co-authored two books: Trees in the City (1977) and Green Roof: A Design Guide and Review of Relevant Technologies (2002).

Herrington’s fascinating book goes one step further, unraveling the numerous influences throughout Oberlander’s life that shaped her professional development. Herrington places her innovative urban designs, her use of plants and her commitment to sustainability in the context of trends in landscape architecture over the past six decades. The biography is, as Herrington asserts, as much a history of modern landscape as a portrait of Oberlander’s life.

An impressive collection of photos and landscape sketches are sprinkled throughout the book to flesh out the scholarly account. The list of stunning accomplishments in a stellar career is balanced with references to some of her grand ideas that did not work out.

But the book will disappoint those looking for a popular biography with a window into her personal life; Herrington has taken an academic approach to Oberlander’s life. We become well acquainted with what the landscape architect accomplished. We are told a few delightful anecdotes about her life. But we do not learn much about her feelings or her personal relationships. If you want to get to know her in a more personal way, check out the oral history at the Cultural Landscape Foundation.

Also, the book does not pay much attention to Oberlander’s commitment to Israel and her work within the Jewish community. One of the founding members of Temple Sholom, she held a place of honor at High Holiday services for many years, reading the story of Jonah with her late husband, architect and urban planner Peter Oberlander. She designed the synagogue’s garden as well as the biblical garden at King David High School with its plants reflecting the various species and geographic regions of the Land of Israel, as described in the Torah.

Oberlander has been involved in more than 500 projects, including the design of more than 70 playgrounds. Her mother Beate Hahn was a professional horticulturalist and author of several books about gardening with children. Oberlander from an early age did drawings for her mother’s books. She has said she decided at the age of 11 that she wanted to design gardens.

Herrington includes a design of a wooded-parkland that Oberlander completed when she was 15 years old. Already at that time, Oberlander was busy in the garden, learning from firsthand experiences about the benefits of organic gardening, companion plants and attracting birds and insects to mitigate pests.

Oberlander was born in 1921 in Mulheim, Germany, a small city along the Rhine River. Herrington’s book ignores the prominence of her grandfather in Germany (a politician and professor and the University of Berlin) and the hurdles the family faced before leaving Germany in the late 1930s. The family emigrated to the United States and Oberlander in 1940 went to Smith College, a women’s college in western Massachusetts, to study architecture and landscape architecture. By coincidence, she stayed in a room across the hall from Betty Friedan, who went on to write The Feminine Mystique. However Oberlander’s contact with strong feminists did not turn her into an outspoken crusader for women’s rights.

Herrington emphasizes the significance of Oberlander as one of the first women in a male-dominated profession, but Oberlander never claimed to be a feminist. She told Herrington she never questioned whether a woman could pursue a professional career outside the home while raising her children, she just did it.

Herrington emphasizes the significance of Oberlander as one of the first women in a male-dominated profession, but Oberlander never claimed to be a feminist. She told Herrington she never questioned whether a woman could pursue a professional career outside the home while raising her children, she just did it.

Oberlander went on to Harvard in 1943. A year later, her mother, without Oberlander’s knowledge, asked the university to allow her to take a year off to work in an architectural office. Her mother thought her drafting skills were inadequate. Together, they decided she would take a year off. (The book does not tell us how that intervention affected her relationship with her mother.) Oberlander found a drafting job but was fired three months later and returned to complete her studies. She moved to Vancouver in 1953 after marrying Peter Oberlander.

Bringing together much that has been written with original research, Herrington shows how the landscape of some of Vancouver’s most familiar places (Robson Square and the Museum of Anthropology), as well as prominent national and international landmarks (the New York Times building, National Gallery in Ottawa and chanceries for embassies in Washington and Berlin) came out of Oberlander’s experiences as a child in the Weimer Republic, her exposure to seminal thinkers in school and her contact with leading figures in the profession.

Oberlander’s commitment to exhaustive research, modern design with abstract shapes and unadorned lines, and community involvement in planning were evident from the start of her career in Philadelphia. In design work for public housing, private residents and playgrounds, she saw the role of landscape architects as working for the community, not the wealthy. She shaped spaces to spark the imagination and creativity of their users. Her innovative work on playgrounds, with informal play areas and separated spaces for different age groups and activities, became a standard for progressive play areas across North America.

Even in the early 1950s, her plans reflected strong ecological values, attributes that would become her trademark in later years. Her designs integrated current strands of trees and plants as much as possible and followed the contours of the land. Years later, she set standards of excellence with her work on green roofs and green buildings.

Oberlander paid close attention to how people reacted to landscape design, what feelings were stirred by design and color, to understand how they used the space. She created areas intended to foster creativity and imagination while relating to the local context.

Herrington tracks Oberlander’s professional development as she shapes design to incorporate ideas from psychology, art and ecology. Oberlander paid close attention to how people reacted to landscape design, what feelings were stirred by design and color, to understand how they used the space. She created areas intended to foster creativity and imagination while relating to the local context.

By the mid-1970s, she had moved from playgrounds to urban landscapes that became havens for adults in densely populated areas. Herrington writes about Oberlander’s 30-year collaboration with Arthur Erickson and influences that had an impact on her high-profile projects.

Throughout it all, Herrington writes that Oberlander never lost her commitment to serve all of society. She continued to work on modest gardens for private homes, public-housing projects, playgrounds and landscapes for people with special needs. And, Oberlander has never forgotten her past. “Why would I disregard the very reasons why I joined this profession in the first place?” she told Herrington.

Media consultant Robert Matas, a former Globe and Mail journalist, still reads books. Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, Making the Modern Landscape is available at the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library. 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.