I sold Eliza down the river for history and tragedy.
It wasn't that I didn't want to see the 50th anniversary restored print of "My Fair Lady," I did, but I couldn't justify passing up the funniest park ranger ever or an abridged teenage love story for it.
And, just for the record, I did see a movie (several, actually), improbably enough of the Civil War.
Ranger Mike Gorman - one part photography geek, one part dedicated historian and one part stand-up comedian - was giving a talk and slide show entitled "Richmond, 1865." If, like me, you'd attended "Richmond, 1864," you knew there was no funnier or more informative way to spend an hour without alcohol.
What I love about his presentations is that he does all the work while the audience reaps all the fascinating results.
Leading us on a virtual tour of the city using photographs, he zooms in, blows up and points out minute details an amateur like me would never notice otherwise.
So he's showing us a picture of the laboratory buildings on Belle Isle (and by laboratory, he means girls and women stuffing gun powder in things to be shot) and then zooms in on the far distance where we can clearly see Monroe's tomb in Hollywood Cemetery a mile away.
Like a twisted scientist, he says thing like, "Look, I'll blow that up again. Because I can," and then gives an evil chuckle. Hilarious. Or, about staging photographs back then, "They faked a shot? Of course they did!"
But I also learn so much at his talks, like when he showed us the Gallego flour mills, the largest in the world at the time, and shares that they were 15 stories high in an era when reinforced steel was unknown. Or a photograph of Union graves on Belle Isle when I'd had no clue that had ever been the case.
It wouldn't be a Gorman talk without the picture of NDH - that's "nasty, dead horse" for Gorman virgins - floating in the canal, which he turns into a "movie" by combining it with another view of NDH.
Shots of Lee once he returned to Richmond were taken behind his house on the day Lincoln died and intended to send a message that the war was over.Time to move on, rebels.
One seated shot exposed what Gorman called a "big male no-no," white socks with black shoes. Scratched on the negative was "do not use" because fashion faux pas don't become a losing general apparently. Showing a detail of a standing shot, he showed us graffiti on Lee's house: the word "devil" scratched on a brick behind him.
See? Richmond's tagging problem can't be blamed on VCU students. It goes back to the Civil War.
The presentation ended on a particularly amusing shot of ships in the river, which, once he blew up a detail, showed a man standing naked in the water. "Expose yourself to history," Mike had written across the man's twigs and berries.
With pleasure, as long as it's history cheerleader Mike Gorman doing the exposing.
My exposure to literature, which followed, wasn't nearly as amusing, but it was awfully succinct.
Quill Theater had invited the public to come watch their final dress rehearsal of their 55-minute, six actor touring production of "Romeo and Juliet" at Shafer Street Playhouse.
I don't think I could have invented a good enough reason not to watch love's heavy burden sink a couple of teenagers.
Bonus: I can't help but appreciate a production of "Romeo and Juliet" where the actors playing the leads seem young enough to be believable.
And it never hurts a tragedy to have its light moments courtesy of John Mincks playing a woman, in this case, Juliet's nurse (the cap alone was pure gold). Or, especially for middle and high school audiences, the superb diction of someone like David Janosik or Audra Honaker playing so many roles and making the language accessible to all.
Although I'm far from the target audience for this kind of production - feel free to use every last word of Shakespeare's text and I promise I won't get bored if it's well acted - it was fun watching the classic story unfold in record time.
"The Compleat Works of Wm. Shakespeare, Abridged" aside, the only briefer Shakespeare I ever saw was an acting class' ten-minute version of "Hamlet" that had the audience in hysterics when the Queen said, "I am poisoned," and tossed her cup to the floor pronto.
But today's "Romeo and Juliet" did accomplish one lovely thing and that was deliver nearly an hour of talented actors reciting some of the most romantic lines in the English language.
Oh, she teaches the torches to burn bright.
And no amount of dancing all night can compare to that.
Showing posts with label mike gorman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mike gorman. Show all posts
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Groupie #2
When a man stays up 'till 3 a.m. preparing, I want to see what he comes up with.
Park ranger and photo historian extraordinaire Mike Gorman had allowed research for his talk today to take over his life - his words- as he gathered together "Images of the Final Campaign, Richmond 1864."
I was definitely in the minority at the historic Henrico Theater, where a sea of males was only occasionally punctuated by a female face, almost all of them except me with a male companion.
His theme was "condition of repose," a quaint phrase to reflect how much times was spent between battles and that's most of what photographers of the era were able to capture.
Which is not to say necessarily restful scenes (a hanging was particularly gruesome) but frequently staged scenes to represent war to the masses (see: propaganda).
Explaining that renowned Civil War-era photographer Matthew Brady was nearly blind at the time, a fact that prevented him taking pictures, he said it did not stop him from being in the pictures.
We played a version of "Where's Waldo?" and he showed a half dozen photos with Brady posing, often front and center, in the midst of camps and battlefields.
And because he's Mike Gorman, photo nerd, he showed Civil War "movies" where he combined two or three pictures to simulate motion.
"Okay, folks, if that doesn't do it for you, thanks for coming," he wisecracked.
Humor abounded, as it always does at his talks and tours, and every time he got off on a geeky tangent or explanation, he'd say, "Here I go, I'm putting on a my propeller beanie!" and explain in detail.
His piece de resistance was an October 1864 photograph of colored Confederate troops and once he blew it up, you could see the figures of Union soldiers on earthworks in the background.
"This is the only shot of Union and Confederate troops together. It's the most impressive photograph of the Civil War," he said and the audience sat stunned and silent.
"That's the proper reaction!" he boomed, clearly satisfied at our amazement.
Another shot the Library of Congress had mis-labeled as Petersburg turned out to be, through his studied investigation, actually of our own Fort Harrison.
They don't make geeks like Mike every day, that's all I'm going to say.
I do my best to attend his talks and tours because you never know what this guy digs up at 2 a.m. sitting in his underwear in front of the computer while eating popcorn and drinking a beer.
No doubt with his propeller beanie on.
Park ranger and photo historian extraordinaire Mike Gorman had allowed research for his talk today to take over his life - his words- as he gathered together "Images of the Final Campaign, Richmond 1864."
I was definitely in the minority at the historic Henrico Theater, where a sea of males was only occasionally punctuated by a female face, almost all of them except me with a male companion.
His theme was "condition of repose," a quaint phrase to reflect how much times was spent between battles and that's most of what photographers of the era were able to capture.
Which is not to say necessarily restful scenes (a hanging was particularly gruesome) but frequently staged scenes to represent war to the masses (see: propaganda).
Explaining that renowned Civil War-era photographer Matthew Brady was nearly blind at the time, a fact that prevented him taking pictures, he said it did not stop him from being in the pictures.
We played a version of "Where's Waldo?" and he showed a half dozen photos with Brady posing, often front and center, in the midst of camps and battlefields.
And because he's Mike Gorman, photo nerd, he showed Civil War "movies" where he combined two or three pictures to simulate motion.
"Okay, folks, if that doesn't do it for you, thanks for coming," he wisecracked.
Humor abounded, as it always does at his talks and tours, and every time he got off on a geeky tangent or explanation, he'd say, "Here I go, I'm putting on a my propeller beanie!" and explain in detail.
His piece de resistance was an October 1864 photograph of colored Confederate troops and once he blew it up, you could see the figures of Union soldiers on earthworks in the background.
"This is the only shot of Union and Confederate troops together. It's the most impressive photograph of the Civil War," he said and the audience sat stunned and silent.
"That's the proper reaction!" he boomed, clearly satisfied at our amazement.
Another shot the Library of Congress had mis-labeled as Petersburg turned out to be, through his studied investigation, actually of our own Fort Harrison.
They don't make geeks like Mike every day, that's all I'm going to say.
I do my best to attend his talks and tours because you never know what this guy digs up at 2 a.m. sitting in his underwear in front of the computer while eating popcorn and drinking a beer.
No doubt with his propeller beanie on.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Geeks Like Me
Looking for something fun to do this afternoon, I succumbed to a man in a uniform.
Fort Brady (nope, never heard of it, either) was offering a combo walking tour and photography talk led by the reliably hilarious Mike Gorman, a photo historian and park ranger, who'd won me over as a fan three years ago at a photography lecture at the Museum of the Confederacy.
That time, he hadn't even been wearing his uniform, much less the Dudley Doright hat he sported today.
I was that person who hadn't allowed enough time to get to the Fort, although in my own defense, I was delayed when a Mama deer and her young 'un suddenly appeared as I was driving through the park.
We'd played "chicken" with each other for several minutes, both of us afraid of what the other might do before I buzzed along, joining the group a tad late.
While the group had to wait, I was given my packet (maps, reports and locations) and, most importantly, my 3-D glasses. What?! This was going to be even better than I'd anticipated.
People roaming around a fort in paper glasses? Count me in.
Mike began by explaining that the photographs we'd be seeing were all taken by northern photographers who'd hoped to capture images and see them back home to people eager for a look-see at the war.
Apparently, no one made a dime because they were shooting stereo images (two negatives meant to be seen through a viewer) that cost $1.50 each, incredibly pricey at a time when soldiers made $16 a month.
"That's good for us," Mike said, "Because all these images ended up in the National Archives and the Library of Congress." As in, digitized and available to all.
Instructing us to put on our 3-D glasses, he brought out large format copies of photos of the very place we were standing, Fort Brady, a place where federal troops spent six months and where 5,000 rounds of ammunition were expended.
The photographs were fabulous. We saw images of the fort and stockade, a view of Fort Brady from the Confederate side and earthworks, the latter easy to match up to what remained of them nearby.
It was after he told us about how the 206th Pennsylvania unit had built Fort Brady (and named it after commander Hugh Brady) that more stragglers showed up for the tour.
Phew, I wasn't the only tardy student.
Ever the good ranger, he paused the talk, reached into his bag again and provided them with packets and glasses. "Souvenirs!" he said. "Gotta love 'em. Who says the government is broke?"
Hysterical.
Moving to near the fort's property line, he showed us photos of the winter quarters built by the USCT - United States Colored Troops- who were also cropped out of the photographs so that it appeared that the white soldiers had built them.
Racism's roots run so deep in this country and we've got the photos to prove it.
It was the 1st Connecticut Heavy Artillery Unit-Company C who took up residence at Fort Brady, firing at the Confederacy's Battery Wood across the James.
Walking to our next stop, Mike asked, "Any questions? I love 'em, by the way!"
His enthusiasm for the first ever 3-D photography tour was infectious - he had found the old sets of stereo images and used software to make them 3-D again - and he encouraged us to go looking online ourselves to find interesting stuff.
"There are two discoveries to be made here. You don't have to be a geek like me, although your certainly can be. Don't think that all this is anything but one geek with time on his hands."
When he led us under some trees, we were standing exactly where the next photo we saw had been taken and the resemblance between the 150 year old photograph and the live view was startling.
Frequently he made the point that the photos were not just documentation but art, as in soldiers took time out of the war to have their pictures taken. The process then took 30 minutes, so there was no pointing and shooting. And, lest we forget, shells were constantly flying.
One of the most impressive images he brought out was a panoramic shot of Fort Brady in its entirety. "Any questions about that awesome panorama I just showed you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye, clearly pleased at having shared his discovery.
On to our final stop, he took a dip in a divot and in his best ranger voice warned us, "Don't do what I just did. There's a hole right there!" Not just funny but safety-conscious.
Of course, his finish was spectacular. He took us to a place in the earthworks where guns were once lined up to fire at the enemy and showed us a shot of a massive 100-pound gun, a testament to 19th century firepower.
But then the photographer seemed to be inspired. He brought in two soldiers, one to pretend he was abut to fire, another on the ground.
Then another was taken, this one with dozens more soldiers, including a man with a flag on top of the fortification for sheer effect. By the final shot, it appeared that the entire fort had decided to get into the act with men milling about everywhere.
I guess the war was on a break right about then.
"Images tell us something," Mike said, summing up. "These photographs were taken to show people that we were winning the war."
To close out the tour, Mike made a pitch for all of us to follow our curiosity about history to the online archives to see what we might find ourselves.
"If you Google the Library of Congress, kiss your free time good-bye," he warned us with the assurance of one who had kissed. "I'm not kidding."
An older guy near me chimed in, "He's right. I Googled Library of Congress one day at 5:00 and when I looked up it was 11:00 and I had no idea."
I admit, as a photography lover, I'd be curious to see what's in the archives. But honestly, I'd rather wait for the next of Ranger Mike's tours to see what he's dug up and hear him crack wise for an hour.
When someone asked him about his work with Richmond Battlefield Park, the liberal arts major quipped, "The Park Service, employing the unemployable for decades."
Asked if Richmond was where he wanted to work, he answered,"Always. Sure Gettysburg is cool, but that was just three days. Here, it was four years!"
Like images, the Summer Ranger series teaches us something. I now know not only where Fort Brady is, but what went on there. But on a Saturday afternoon, it's about more than a lesson.
It's about thanking the war gods that the government isn't so broke that it can't employ witty rangers to share their geeky finds.
Fort Brady (nope, never heard of it, either) was offering a combo walking tour and photography talk led by the reliably hilarious Mike Gorman, a photo historian and park ranger, who'd won me over as a fan three years ago at a photography lecture at the Museum of the Confederacy.
That time, he hadn't even been wearing his uniform, much less the Dudley Doright hat he sported today.
I was that person who hadn't allowed enough time to get to the Fort, although in my own defense, I was delayed when a Mama deer and her young 'un suddenly appeared as I was driving through the park.
We'd played "chicken" with each other for several minutes, both of us afraid of what the other might do before I buzzed along, joining the group a tad late.
While the group had to wait, I was given my packet (maps, reports and locations) and, most importantly, my 3-D glasses. What?! This was going to be even better than I'd anticipated.
People roaming around a fort in paper glasses? Count me in.
Mike began by explaining that the photographs we'd be seeing were all taken by northern photographers who'd hoped to capture images and see them back home to people eager for a look-see at the war.
Apparently, no one made a dime because they were shooting stereo images (two negatives meant to be seen through a viewer) that cost $1.50 each, incredibly pricey at a time when soldiers made $16 a month.
"That's good for us," Mike said, "Because all these images ended up in the National Archives and the Library of Congress." As in, digitized and available to all.
Instructing us to put on our 3-D glasses, he brought out large format copies of photos of the very place we were standing, Fort Brady, a place where federal troops spent six months and where 5,000 rounds of ammunition were expended.
The photographs were fabulous. We saw images of the fort and stockade, a view of Fort Brady from the Confederate side and earthworks, the latter easy to match up to what remained of them nearby.
It was after he told us about how the 206th Pennsylvania unit had built Fort Brady (and named it after commander Hugh Brady) that more stragglers showed up for the tour.
Phew, I wasn't the only tardy student.
Ever the good ranger, he paused the talk, reached into his bag again and provided them with packets and glasses. "Souvenirs!" he said. "Gotta love 'em. Who says the government is broke?"
Hysterical.
Moving to near the fort's property line, he showed us photos of the winter quarters built by the USCT - United States Colored Troops- who were also cropped out of the photographs so that it appeared that the white soldiers had built them.
Racism's roots run so deep in this country and we've got the photos to prove it.
It was the 1st Connecticut Heavy Artillery Unit-Company C who took up residence at Fort Brady, firing at the Confederacy's Battery Wood across the James.
Walking to our next stop, Mike asked, "Any questions? I love 'em, by the way!"
His enthusiasm for the first ever 3-D photography tour was infectious - he had found the old sets of stereo images and used software to make them 3-D again - and he encouraged us to go looking online ourselves to find interesting stuff.
"There are two discoveries to be made here. You don't have to be a geek like me, although your certainly can be. Don't think that all this is anything but one geek with time on his hands."
When he led us under some trees, we were standing exactly where the next photo we saw had been taken and the resemblance between the 150 year old photograph and the live view was startling.
Frequently he made the point that the photos were not just documentation but art, as in soldiers took time out of the war to have their pictures taken. The process then took 30 minutes, so there was no pointing and shooting. And, lest we forget, shells were constantly flying.
One of the most impressive images he brought out was a panoramic shot of Fort Brady in its entirety. "Any questions about that awesome panorama I just showed you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye, clearly pleased at having shared his discovery.
On to our final stop, he took a dip in a divot and in his best ranger voice warned us, "Don't do what I just did. There's a hole right there!" Not just funny but safety-conscious.
Of course, his finish was spectacular. He took us to a place in the earthworks where guns were once lined up to fire at the enemy and showed us a shot of a massive 100-pound gun, a testament to 19th century firepower.
But then the photographer seemed to be inspired. He brought in two soldiers, one to pretend he was abut to fire, another on the ground.
Then another was taken, this one with dozens more soldiers, including a man with a flag on top of the fortification for sheer effect. By the final shot, it appeared that the entire fort had decided to get into the act with men milling about everywhere.
I guess the war was on a break right about then.
"Images tell us something," Mike said, summing up. "These photographs were taken to show people that we were winning the war."
To close out the tour, Mike made a pitch for all of us to follow our curiosity about history to the online archives to see what we might find ourselves.
"If you Google the Library of Congress, kiss your free time good-bye," he warned us with the assurance of one who had kissed. "I'm not kidding."
An older guy near me chimed in, "He's right. I Googled Library of Congress one day at 5:00 and when I looked up it was 11:00 and I had no idea."
I admit, as a photography lover, I'd be curious to see what's in the archives. But honestly, I'd rather wait for the next of Ranger Mike's tours to see what he's dug up and hear him crack wise for an hour.
When someone asked him about his work with Richmond Battlefield Park, the liberal arts major quipped, "The Park Service, employing the unemployable for decades."
Asked if Richmond was where he wanted to work, he answered,"Always. Sure Gettysburg is cool, but that was just three days. Here, it was four years!"
Like images, the Summer Ranger series teaches us something. I now know not only where Fort Brady is, but what went on there. But on a Saturday afternoon, it's about more than a lesson.
It's about thanking the war gods that the government isn't so broke that it can't employ witty rangers to share their geeky finds.
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