Hey. Hey you.
We’re ba-aaaack ….
Hi everyone! It was almost three years ago that I put up a little post on WNYC’s web site, asking if people might be interested in starting a Performance Club. Turns out, yes. Yes you were, for various and totally endearing reasons, such as this one from Kristen: “Please count me in. The world is so sad I need something to think about and talk about besides doom.”
Well … the world is still so sad. And the pClub (yes, it is an unbearably hokey name. Deal with it.) rides again. Now we can resume talking about unbearably sad and doom-filled art! Hurrah.
I seem to recall that I made Frank O’Hara the patron saint of the first pClub. Let’s keep him around. But I’d like to add—if she’ll have us—the great Jill Johnston, whose performance criticism written for the Village Voice during the 1960s blew the barn doors open (maybe off) when I first encountered it.
Jill died on September 18, 2010. And this Sunday, the first anniversary of her death, the marvelous Ingrid Nyeboe, her wife, has asked people to gather at Judson Memorial Church from 4 to 7 p.m., to hear people read selections of Jill’s writing.
I can’t be there, because I am doing this. But I will be there in spirit – and, I hope in voice. I’ve given this recording to Ingrid, who did me the great honor of inviting me to be one of the readers. I humbly submit it to you now, for the inaugural post of the second coming of the new and improved (really – Leah and Kirk, thank you for this beautiful home) pClub.
See you around.