Thursday, June 27, 2013

How I Spent My Sunday


Terry shoveling in front of the barn
 flash fiction by Terry Mooney

You talkin' to ME? You talkin' to ME? You want to know how I spent my Sunday? No? Phooey on you,

I'm going to tell you anyway!

My friend's barn is at the base of a slight hill. When it rains, there is a stream of gushing water that pours through the barn and run-in. So, I am digging a water trench to divert the water to go to the side.

I am shoveling horse manure in a very hard torrential downpour and high winds, which lasted about 45 minutes! In my boxer shorts and crocks (the area is very secluded) so that I would have dry clothes for the drive home. And Tigere, the curious friesian, is following close by to make sure I did it right.

Not a pretty picture, but funny! We were laughing the whole time!

So, how was your Sunday?

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Terry Mooney is a former Senior Computer Control Specialist for NASA's Kennedy Space Center who lives in Aiken, SC

photo by Sasha Thurmond

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Saturday, June 15, 2013

THE TURTLE TANK

A Short Story
by Thaddeus Rutkowski



THE  TURTLE TANK CAME into our apartment while I was away. Along with the tank came a turtle—a mature red-eared slider. My wife and daughter bought the tank while I was on a short trip. Maybe they didn’t want me to stop them.

We all knew our daughter needed a pet, but I’d put my foot down about a cat. Our place was too small for a cat, I believed. But not for a turtle, at least in my wife’s and daughter’s opinion. When I came back from my trip, I was surprised by the sight of the aquarium, with its sun lamp shining and its air pump bubbling. In it was the turtle, treading water. It was a big animal, for its species. My wife and daughter had gotten the reptile free of charge because someone had abandoned it.

Of course, no one except for the turtle had any use for the tank. It—or I should say she—swam in it, ate in it and slept in it, until she had to lay eggs. When the time came, she would climb out of the tank and fall to the floor. It was a long way down, and I worried that she’d crack her shell. But I was never able to catch her—she fell so fast.

Somehow, if she landed on her back, she could wave her legs until she got traction and right herself. She would then look for a soft place, maybe among clothes on the floor, where she could dig a shallow pit for her eggs. She would scratch and knead with her hind feet. But the floor was hard, and no amount of scraping would dent it. Giving up, she would look for a window to escape through. She knew where the windows were, but she didn’t know how to climb to them. She was a turtle, after all.

The idea at this point was not to push her with my foot, that is, not to kick her. The temptation was there, however, because she was low to the ground. I didn’t want her in my clothes, or in my bedroom for that matter, so I wanted to nudge her out with my foot, then shut the door so she couldn’t get back in. But if I were caught by my wife and daughter while I was pushing with my foot, I would hear some screaming—some accusations of animal abuse. So I would bend down and pick up the turtle by her shell. If I were gentle, she would not panic and scratch me with her back claws, which were sharp, for digging.

It would usually take a week or two of her escaping the tank before she found an egg-laying place. Usually, it was not a good place. It was the hardwood floor, or the ceramic tiles in the bathroom. She would deposit eight to 10 eggs there. Some of the eggs would remain whole and perfect. Others she would step on and smash. Whether she meant to destroy them was not known, at least to us, her caregivers.

The tank stayed where it was, on top of a cabinet in the living room, until it was replaced by a bigger tank—one the turtle, named Mystic, might not be able to climb out of. But as it turned out, she could get out of the larger tank when she wanted to—or when she needed to. She quit the tank whenever it was time to lay eggs. Precisely when that time would come was the question, one that required mystical knowledge to answer. None of us could say.

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Thadeus  Rutkowski is the author of the innovative novels Haywire, Tetched, and Roughhouse. He teaches literature as an adjunct at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn and fiction writing at the Writers Voice of the West Side YMCA in Manhattan.

Thaddeus Rutkowski web site



Friday, May 31, 2013

I Say Stylist and Head for the Hills

An excerpt from the essay The Backlash Against the Novel

by Paul West


WHAT  IS THIS FICTION we are talking about? Surely nothing to do with best sellers and/or pulp “page-turners” or the old Dodd-Mead formula of one crisis every ten pages. No, it had to do with those deplored matters: formalism, interiority, the presumably ineffable unspoken, textural and plotly experiment, and structures flinched from the other arts. In my tousled head I carried a short list of practitioners, some of whom I knew: Barth, Coover, Davenport, Gass, Hawkes, Markson, Morrow, Sebald, Vernon, Hugh Nissenson, Poleskie, Joanna Scott, Jeanne Mackin, Janet Frame the New Zealander and Delia Falconer the Australian, plus James Hamilton Patterson, (Gerontion) and Michael Brodsky, a true heir of Beckett, and Claudio Magris, a picaresque heir of Svevo. There are others who will not now forgive me. I have trouble with the phrase “post-modern,” which always struck me as post-Renaissance, so I am aware of having flinched some post-modernists from that moldy ragbag. Asked to describe myself, I say “stylist” and head for the hills.

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PAUL WEST is the author of 50 books. He has received awards from the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters, the Lannan Prize for Fiction and the Halperin-Kaminsky Prize. He was named a Literary Lion by the New York Public Library and a Chevalier of the Order of Arts and Letters by the French Government. He has also been a runner-up for the National Book Circle Award and the Nobel Prize for Literature.

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Thursday, May 30, 2013

Odds of Passing a National Security Law - 17%


By highlighting journalists’ need to protect confidential sources and other information, the Justice Department’s recent seizing of AP phone records without notice may finally lead to passage of a federal press shield law. The Authors Guild, which has long backed the enactment of such a law, is part of a coalition of media organizations calling on Congress to use this as an opportunity to strengthen the First Amendment protection of press freedom. It’s going to be an uphill battle, says legislation monitor GovTrack.us.

Still, the moment seems right. Amid the uproar over the DOJ’s actions, President Obama has asked New York Democrat Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-NY) to revive shield law legislation that was shelved in 2009. Last week Schumer said he would reintroduce the bill, The Free Flow of Information Act, and Texas Republican Rep. Ted Poe introduced shield law legislation in the House. Here’s the text of the bill from THOMAS (Library of Congress) and an analysis of the bill’s sections by the Newspaper Guild.*

Revelations earlier this month that the Justice Department had used broad subpoena powers to secretly obtain two months of call records from 20 telephone lines, including to journalists’ home, office and cell phones, in connection with a leak investigation drew condemnation from Democrats and Republicans.

The Justice Department has defended its actions by saying they were necessary to find the source of leaked information that could compromise national security. Opposition to its investigative tactic is far from unanimous. In an Op-Ed piece in the New York Times this week three attorneys who worked in the Justice Departments of previous administrations said the prosecutors were justified.

While neither we nor the critics know the circumstances behind the prosecutors’ decision to issue this subpoena, we do know from the government’s public disclosures that the prosecutors were right to investigate this leak vigorously. The leak — which resulted in a May 2012 article by The A.P. about the disruption of a Yemen-based terrorist plot to bomb an airliner — significantly damaged our national security.

At a time when citing national security tends to trump all other arguments, passing a federal shield law that would prevent similar intrusions on journalists won’t be easy. GovTrack gives the bill a 44% chance of getting out of committee, and just a 17% chance of being enacted. On the bright side, the press shield bill is ahead of the game: GovTrack reports that only 3% of House bills have been enacted recently.

The odds of passing a federal press shield bill may not be terrific, but bipartisan outrage and cooperation have finally brought it within reach.

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This article provided by The Authors Guild, 31 E. 32nd St. 7 flr, NY NY 10016

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*Note: looking for the sticky wicket? It’s defining “journalism.” After all, haven’t Facebook and Twitter turned us all into newsgatherers and distributors? The bill deals with this (see definitions of “Covered Person” and “Journalism” in Section 4) by limiting protection to those who engage in journalism “for financial gain or livelihood.”

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Sunday, April 28, 2013

A Photo That I Almost Died For . . . .

Citadelle Laferriere, built between 1805 and 1820 to protect Haiti from invasion.



STEPHEN POLESKIE

based on a true story

IT WAS MID-TERM BREAK. One of the advantages of being on a university faculty is that you also get the same days off that the students do. So we headed off to the Bahamas on a trip we had planned. The "we" was my wife and I and two of her friends and one of the woman's daughter. The daughter was thirteen and weighed only 85 pounds, which made her just the right size to fit into the fifth seat of my twin engine Piper Apache. Everyone else was told to pack light so the airplane wouldn't be over gross, after all we were going to a tropical island, how much clothes would you need any way.

The flight down was uneventful. We made one stop in North Carolina for lunch, and then headed on to Florida, where we would rent the required over water survival gear and spend the night, before hopping over to Grand Bahama. There one of the women had a friend who had let us have a house to use. Besides being free, the house was one block from the beach.

Now it sounded great. But after the third day we had grown tired of the beach, the straw market, and watching the drug runner's boats come in and out of the harbor. What else was there to do? We sat down at the dinner table and decided to find a more interesting location for our holiday. Pointing at the map someone said; "Look, Haiti's just over there, let's go?" The next morning we were on our way winging out over the Atlantic, being careful not to get too close to Cuba, which we could see clearly off our right wing tip.

We landed in Cape-Haitien to clear customs, but not after having to circle the field several times while men cleared the rows of 55 gallon drums from the runway. Why was the runway lined with drums? we asked when we finally got down. We were told that Haiti was at war with the Dominican Republic, the country they shared the island with, a war not much known about in the rest of the Western Hemisphere. Apparently their neighbors were known to fly over and land their airplanes and then rush out and shoot up the place with machine guns, or so the Haitian customs officer told us as we watched the barrels being rolled back into place. "Remove the barrels," I said, "we're going on to Port-au-Prince."

We had only just begun our climb out when I spotted the magnificent sight of the Citadelle Laferriere. I told the group that I wanted to circle to take some photos. I went around once, snapping as I flew. Maybe a little lower would be better, I thought, although I was quite low already. I could see the occupants in the convoy of cars that was heading up the steep hill to The Citadel. I made a second circuit, not sure that I had gotten the photo I wanted. "One more pass," I announced, "and we're on our way." I banked the airplane to head back. "Enough already," my wife shouted at me, "we're all getting sick from these steep banks. . . ."

That summer I ran into a former student of mine, Fred M, at an alumni function at the college. I knew that he was from Haiti and told him about our trip to Port-au-Prince and how interesting it had been. Fred informed me that he was working as an architect for the government and was involved in several restoration projects, including work on Citadelle Laferriere.

When I related to him that I had flown over The Citadel taking photographs, he stopped short. He mentioned a date, and asked me if my airplane had two engines and was white with brown and orange trim. I replied that was the date of my fly-over and my airplane fit his description exactly.

"And you circled twice . . . and then went away?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Yes. . . ."

"You don't know how lucky you were, professor," my former student said. "On that day I was in a convoy with Jean-Claude Duvalier, we were taking 'Bebe Doc.' up the mountain to see the progress that had been had made on restoring The Citadel. When your airplane began to circle us so low he became nervous. 'If that airplane comes around one more time, shoot it down,' the dictator had shouted to his men. And they had trained the machine guns in the truck in front and behind us on you. But suddenly you went away."

"And those were the vehicles I had seen below me on the steep hill heading up to The Citadel. Had my wife not stopped me from making another pass I probably wouldn't be here talking to you today," I said.

"Probably not," Fred replied. "Duvalier does not take any threats lightly."

I looked down. Both out glasses were empty; I put my arm on Fred's shoulder and lead him into the bar.

*  *  *

STEPHEN POLESKIE is a writer and artist, he has published six novels and numerous short stories. His artworks are in many major museums including the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Tate Galley in London. He is currently a Professor Emeritus at Cornell University.

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Thursday, April 11, 2013

AMAZON BUYS GOODREADS

AMAZON'S GARDEN WALLS are about to grow much higher. In a truly devastating act of vertical integration, Amazon is buying Goodreads, its only sizable competitor for reader reviews and a site known for the depth and breadth of its users' book recommendations. Recommendations from like-minded readers appear to be the Holy Grail of online book marketing. By combining Goodreads' recommendation database with Amazon's own vast databases of readers' purchase histories, Amazon's control of online bookselling approaches the insurmountable.

"Amazon's acquisition of Goodreads is a textbook example of how modern Internet monopolies can be built," said Scott Turow, Authors Guild president. "The key is to eliminate or absorb competitors before they pose a serious threat. With its 16 million subscribers, Goodreads could easily have become a competing on-line bookseller, or played a role in directing buyers to a site other than Amazon. Instead, Amazon has scuttled that potential and also squelched what was fast becoming the go-to venue for on-line reviews, attracting far more attention than Amazon for those seeking independent assessment and discussion of books. As those in advertising have long known, the key to driving sales is controlling information."

One example should make it clear how formidable this combination is. For "Animals Make Us Human" by Temple Grandin and Catherine Johnson, Amazon has 123 customer reviews, and B&N has about 40 (they report 150, but that figure includes ratings as well as reviews). Goodreads swamps these figures, with 469 reviews and 2,266 ratings for the book.

As an independent platform, Goodreads, with its 16 million members, posed a serious competitive threat to Amazon. No more.

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This information was provided by the Authors Guild.
Feel free to comment below, or on their blog: http://tinyurl.com/cs8obt7

Or you can mail them at: The Authors Guild , 31 E 32nd St, Fl 7,  New York, NY 10016

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Thursday, March 28, 2013

REASONS FOR AERIAL THEATRE





Steve Poleskie performing over New York City, view from 42nd. Street, ca 1986
   
REASONS FOR AERIAL THEATRE

Stephen Poleskie

An essay that appeared, in whole or in part, in several journals and an anthology in the 1980s, including: Leonardo in the USA, Dars in Italy, and Himmelsschreiber in Germany

IN THE AENEID, VIRGIL RECOUNTS one of the earliest attempts to convey information through the sky. This is the story of the goddess Fama (Rumour), who spreads reports by flying at night on wings midway between the earth and sky. The motto, "Fama super aethera notus" (I am known by my fame in the heavens above) is from a speech by Aeneas to Venus.

For more than a decade now I have been using an airplane, flown by me and trailing smoke, to communicate through the sky. My activity differs from commercial skywriting and from military precision teams in intent and therefore in result. A marching band and a ballet company are both engaged in the same practice, that of moving bodies in some sort of order across a space on the ground. However, as their purposes differ so do their results. The analogy that can be applied to my Aerial Theatre as the only similarity between this and skywriters or military precision teams is the use of an airplane to move a person through space in the sky.

The purpose of Aerial Theatre is to create an artistic event in the sky. The action of my airplane lays down lines which can momentarily be observed. This action, however, does not create a tangible art object, a fact which presents difficulty to the viewer accustomed to equating artistic activity with a resulting product. The product of my flight then exists like a dance only as a remembrance of something seen.

The purpose of aerial theatre is not, therefore, the creating of objects in the sky. The viewer conditioned by his a priori knowledge of art wherein an artistic activity leads to the creation of an artistic object, expects something material to result. Art is not the making of objects for commerce. Art is spirituality and the perception of the will of its creator. In my aerial theatre I surround the viewers with a highly charged environment of movement and sound that energizes and expands what is seen. I seek to absorb the functions of drawing, sculpture, and dance into the act of flying itself. Although the separate parts of each piece are known aircraft maneuvers and practiced beforehand, they by themselves have little artistic identity. It is only when a selection of these previously experienced elements are joined in an integrated four dimensional performance in space that anything that can be seen as art occurs. In these events the making of the drawing becomes more important than the drawing itself.

These Aerial Theatre events are not improvisational, however, but are thoroughly planned beforehand. This does lead to the production of a great many works of a conventional nature, such as collages and drawings on photographs. These works are useful to me in preparing for an event and in helping to visualize what I am going to do. Originally I had intended to keep these works private but now find it helpful to exhibit this material to aid in the understanding of the aerial pieces.

Likewise the documentation which remains after an event, the photographs, films and videos, while they may also be useful to the understanding of the event they are not essential to its existence. My pieces are not designed for documentation and many have not been documented. Some have been performed at random over unannounced sites to an audience of whom I had no knowledge.

When we gaze outward at the world around us we can see objects but we cannot see ourselves. We only know ourselves in relation to external appearances. To see ourselves we must look inward. This inward view has no form. Form as we know it is the object appearance which reality presents to the eye when the eye responds to external stimuli. Objects are therefore the external appearance of a reality and not the inward reality itself. My Aerial Theatre is not concerned with objects but, like life, deals with its own consummation. This art, like life, must be experienced, constantly changing and evolving, never definitive.

All previous portrayals of objects have resulted in immobility and as a consequence, dead forms. The dead form is one of the main characteristics of art today, especially sculpture. This is nowhere more evident than in the work of Alexander Calder, an artist credited by some as having introduced motion to sculpture when actually his works have little motion and could more accurately be described as the titillation of trite forms. While his forms do modify the space they are installed in, the small amount of motion they are capable of does little to set up any additional relationship to the initial situation.

Aerial Theatre deals with form which is variable and therefore evolutionary and unique from any other concepts which have existed until now. The Futurists spoke of form in movement and the movement of form. Through this dual conception of form they attempted to give plastic life to their work. They were looking not for pure form but for pure plastic rhythm, not the construction of an object but the construction of an object's action. However, they abstracted and removed the form from the living environment, thereby arresting its motion. A form which has the appearance of being in motion but which itself is not in motion is likewise a dead form, for a consequence of its immobility is its inability to generate a new form.

It is the ability to create new forms that gives Aerial Theatre its four dimensional context. While the pieces may appear as only lines, these lines laid down by the airplane complete those three dimensions which determine volume: height, width, and depth. The simultaneous action of the absolute motion (the aircraft's direction) and the relative motion (the direction of the wind) transforms the created form in relation to its environment. However, it is not only the decomposition of the form's shape that constitutes the fourth dimension. While the decompositions and distortions in themselves do have plastic value, their main impact is the creation of new, living forms out of the dying. In this infinite expansion of form, the conflict between the absolute motion and the relative motion, between environment and object, we find form revealed in a life of its own.

On June 14, 1986, I performed an event over Manhattan in which I incorporated the relative winds of two fronts. A warm front lay to the south of the city and a cold front to the north, meeting approximately at 14th street. From my altitude of 9500 feet this delineation was clearly visible as downtown was hazy with scattered clouds while uptown was clear. As the winds in a high pressure system flow clockwise and in a low pressure system flow counter-clockwise, a straight line laid down the center of Manhattan and would drift southeastward on the uptown side, changing to a northwestward drift after crossing 14th Street. I attempted to use these winds to my advantage and executed several of the pieces across the front line so that they appeared to disintegrate in two directions at the same time. I also worked with the existing clouds. At one point I saw a small cloud drifting toward the cold front. This I wrapped with a band of smoke, departing the cloud on the downwind side to give the illusion that the airplane was "pulling" the cloud. This cloud was then "pulled" into the cold front where it disintegrated. I used the relative movement of the winds as a symbolic as well as a plastic gesture. This performance called Winds of Change was given on the day of a large protest against apartheid held in Central Park.

The perspective of Aerial Theatre is likewise unique and transcends all other known perspectives. This perspective rejects the notion of a point of view. It is a dynamic concept which is the antithesis of all static perspective. The lines laid down by the airplane will appear different to two spectators depending on their relative positions. Thus, the same line can take on opposite meanings. The dynamic and penetrating acute angle can be seen from another position as the vague and open-ended obtuse angle. likewise, a rhythmic and oscillating curved line seen from below can become static and straight when seen at eye level. Furthermore, the terms close and distant no longer matter in terms of relation to the observer as with traditional perspective. Rather, these terms take on an emotional quality as a piece one knows to be twenty miles wide can appear intimate enough to be held in one's hand and the sky can be brought down to the level of the ground.

This way of treating perspective surpasses earlier notions of perspective in emotive intensity and in plastic complexity. The lines laid down by the airplane with their absolute and relative motions create in the mind of the observer a mass of plastic emotions. This presents an art object which has no identity in itself but is capable of assuming an infinite number of identities. The forms exist not only of themselves but also as an extension of the spectacle. This living object, being characterized only by its absolute and relative force lines, is unable to be perceived as a whole. We know the object only through a succession of intuitive stages which is essentially our interpretation of life itself. Aerial Theatre, with its complex pattern of lines simultaneously beginning and concluding, stirs and enthralls the viewer more by what it suggests than by what is materially expressed.

In 1919 the Futurist Fedele Azari, an aviator in the Italian Air Force during the First World War, issued a manifesto calling for a "Futurist Aerial Theatre." In it he wrote: "The artistic form that we create with flight is analogous to dance, but is infinitely superior because of its grandiose background, its super dynamism and the greatly varied possibilities it permits." While Azari's manifesto did argue much of what I am doing today and he is purported to have performed flights of "elementary aerial theatre" near Milan, I have been unable to find any documentation of this work. He had hoped for his aerial theatre to be a "truly popular theatre ... offered free to millions of spectators."

Likewise, my own aerial theatre is given free to those who see it and thereby participate in it. It belongs to those who retain it in their mind, existing long after the external movements and sounds have ceased.

My interest in airplanes began in my childhood. My uncle, who was a pilot, lived with us and I built model airplanes. This interest lay dormant for ten years while I pursued my activity as an artist in New York City. In 1968 I moved to Ithaca, New York, to teach at Cornell University. There I took private lessons and learned to fly.

Until that time I had been a somewhat realist artist, but the view from the cockpit, the vast sense of space, compelled me to an attempt to recreate this experience. However, the rather flat landscapes, with jumbled aerial perspective that resulted were to me considerably less than the reality I had seen. For me, a work of art by its very nature must transcend the reality that inspired it. These works being less than that were then less than works of art. The main elements lacking were the enormous space, the sense of speed or movement and the ability to change. I stopped painting entirely and devoted myself to exploring the use of the airplane as a tool for making art.

My first use of the airplane was in 1972 when I performed an aerial piece over Hamilton, New York in connection with an exhibition of my art works at the Dana Arts Center of Colgate University. For the next three years I did little artwork but spent my free time developing my piloting skills by participating in aerobatic flying competitions.

One man's dilettantism is another man's avant-garde. I did not wish to be an amateur pilot-artist flopping about the sky in a stunt airplane calling it a work of art. I wanted to control my craft with consummate skill so that the ideas I worked out on paper could be executed in the sky. I progressed through the ranks from the Sportsman to Advanced categories, winning several competitions on the way. In 1977 I won the Canadian Open Championship and retired from competition flying.

In 1975 I had taken apart the aerobatic biplane that I had bought from a stunt pilot in Nebraska and rebuilt it as a work of art. After installing a new engine and several modifications to make it more suitable for my purpose, I recovered the fabric on the airplane and painted it in an aesthetic motif.

A few years earlier Alexander Calder had been asked by Braniff Airlines to design a paint scheme which would turn one of their Boeing 747's into a work of art. The result was so ugly that Braniff pilots were unhappy when they were assigned to fly the airplane, and passengers were reluctant to get into it. The airline subsequently had the paint design removed.

Unlike Calder's asymmetrical pattern, I wanted my design to respect the original lines of the airplane. I spent one year on the project and made over 400 sketches. The design was to incorporate the coloring of birds, of WWI camouflaged airplanes and the art of the native American Indian. This airplane, and a group of my drawings, was exhibited in New York City at the Louis K. Meisel Gallery in 1978.

The first use of my biplane trailing smoke in an aerial performance was on October 27, 1976 when I flew over the campus of California State University-Stanislaus. At that time I was a visiting artist at the University of California at Berkeley. Two weeks later on November 19, I performed the "Great Berkeley Airshow" over San Pablo Reservoir near Berkeley for a crowd of students and museum people from the university. In the spring of 1977 I performed a piece over Stanford University. This was witnessed by the American painter San Francis, who had himself caused a piece to be executed in the sky by helicopters trailing smoke over Tokyo, Japan several years earlier.

For the next seven years I executed pieces solo over a number of cities including Washington, D.C. and New York. In 1984 I did the first performance in concert with music and dancers on the ground. This took place in Toledo, Ohio over the Maumee River and was called "Sky Dance of the Maumee." This was accomplished with the aid of the Tower Brass Quintet and the Valois Dance Company. In June of 1985 I did a performance in Richmond, Virginia over the James River. This event, called "Richmond/River/Ritual," was done in collaboration with a brass quintet formed by members of the Richmond Symphony.

My first performance of aerial theatre in Europe was in August of 1985. This was executed using a rented Bucker Jungmann over the Italian town of Pallanza on the Lago Maggiore. This site was chosen because it was the birthplace of the futuristic Fedele Azari. The piece was performed as one of the events held in connection with the International Video Festival at Locarno.

More recently, I have been using my second airplane, a 1958 Piper Apache. This model was the first airplane designed for private business transport. As it is a twin engine airplane, I have equipped both engines with smoke systems. I had hoped to have two lines of smoke but the slipstream causes the trails to merge as one a few feet behind the airplane. As this is not an aerobatic biplane I must design the pieces using only non-aerobatic maneuvers. An advantage, however, is that this is a standard category airplane which is allowed to fly directly over cities. As my biplane was in the experimental category as well as being aerobatic, I had to confine my performances to being over lakes, rivers and other open spaces.

In the future I hope to be able to expand the scope of my aerial theatre. I an planning more collaborative efforts with other pilots flying in elaborately choreographed spectacles in which the airplanes perform pas de deux as well as solo. I would like to have the music played live at some central place and broadcast simultaneously over the radio so that it could be heard by people in all parts of the city. In addition, television cameras in the airplanes would broadcast live the pilot's eye view from the cockpit. Also as I had at Locarrno, airplanes with television cameras circling above would broadcast from that vantage point, while parachutists wearing mini-cameras on their helmets would dive through the pieces making videos. These would be immediately shown on banks of monitors located throughout the city at the same time as the simulcasting of the on-going event. In this way, a spectator would observe the realtime performances, involving the use of marching bands, fireworks, searchlights, and poets circling in planes reading the libretto through loudspeakers.

But what are the reasons for this aerial theatre? Is it a Utopian idea or a novel means of articulating ideas that could more simply be expressed some other way? The story I was attempting to tell in Sky Dances of the Maumee was of a city in flux, Toledo, Ohio. Seen from the air the downtown, wrecked by urban renewal, looked like it had experienced a bombing. Whole blocks had been leveled and were now parking lots. Corporate structures rose to thirty-three stories, not out of a need for space but only to be taller than the corporate structure at the other end of the street. From the sky, the Maumee River, called “Toledo's link to the world,” could clearly be seen as the dividing line between the city's management and working classes. The river leads to the lake, the lake to the sea; across the sea is Europe where the still-living grandfathers of many of these people had come from, but where few would go. Most were living the good life in America drinking beer, playing softball and watching television.

One Sunday an estimated 125,000 of these people watched my performance. Perhaps many of them did not understand what I was trying to convey, but they saw it. Had I made a painting, how many years would it take for it to be seen by 125,000 people? Or for 125,000 people to read my book? This, is not to say I feel that Aerial Theatre is better than the other media, only that this is the way I have chosen.

All meaning is contiguous to some other meaning. This is a four dimensional concept that implies that an idea can grow or increase in ever expanding circles, provided it is not restricted by the social structure in which it is involved.

Unfortunately, an artist is often forced by circumstance to take a position, to try to locate himself in relation to what is currently being done and what has been done before. This presents difficulty, for the original meaning or intent of the work may then be subverted by external forces to serve a different social schema. The artist must be free from the social order (and the society of artists) so that he can avoid the demagogues of distinction who would have us believe there is only one true way.

In 1903 the Wright brothers made their flight in an airplane which had two wings, two motors facing backwards with propellers that pushed the airplane toward the rudders and elevators which were in the front. The pilot lay on his stomach and the airplane took off from rails. Six years later the Frenchman, Bleriot, became the first man to fly across the English Channel. What is significant is that this airplane used principles exactly the opposite of those of the Wright brothers. His craft had only one wing and one motor which faced forward; the propeller pulled the airplane which had its rudder and elevator in the rear. Bleriot flew sitting upright and took off on wheels. We are all heading toward a new land, though we may be proceeding by different routes. Let us hope that on our eventual arrival we will find this new land better than the one we left.

The beginnings of flight lie in the aesthetic. The aircraft as a thing of magic and beauty was created in art and literature centuries before its existence as a thing of function. I seek to return the airplane to its origins in art and fantasy. I feel that art must reflect the sum of human knowledge in an age and therefore use the airplane 'to communicate with the greatest number of people in the shortest possible time. If this leaves Aerial Theatre in a critical no-man's land, it is of no consequence; it is not theatre, it is not performance, it is not air-show nor sculpture or drawing. It is the art of true nature, an art given free to a vast public audience, an art that unites formal beauty with the expansive spirituality of the imagination.

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STEPHEN (STEVE) POLESKIE is an artist, and writer. His artworks are in the collections of numerous museums, including the MoMA, and the Metropolitan Museum, and his writing, fiction, poetry, and art criticism has appeared in many journals both here and abroad and in the anthology The Book of Love, (W.W. Norton) and been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He has published six novels and taught, or been a visiting artist at twenty-seven different art schools and universities, including: The School of Visual Arts, NYC, the University of California, Berkeley, and Cornell University. Poleskie lives in Ithaca, NY. website: www.StephenPoleskie.com

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