On June 2nd I had a stroke.

I like to use this space to talk about the current state of my work. Recovery is a

big part of my life–which is a big part of my work—so in some fashion I’m still

speaking about what I’m working on.

Stroke is one of those “freak out” words—I have witnessed people jump when I tell

them the news. I guess it reminds people of dying or that I’m going to have

another stroke right in front of them. Itʼs like saying cancer or heart attack. It

doesn’t freak me out as much as others. So I’ve gotten used to keeping my

mouth shut, not for my own sake, but to protect others.

But I’m not going to write some story of recovery or something along those

(inspirational) lines. Rather I want to talk about what I learned and what Iʼll miss:

Observation is part of life and performance. When an arm doesn’t work or

walking becomes impossible it becomes interesting. It becomes interesting

because of its absence–Take something away, and it draws oneʼs attention. Its

absence becomes something. So, experience is what I have decided is reality–

The brain processes what I see and hear and I choose to make that true. I also

see two of everything– double vision, which I have 24 hours a day since this

happened—and it has become part of my experience. Itʼs very easy to get used

to it and feel comfortable about it. Does that make it true? How about the

“normal” world?—Is the experience of that any different? Is the phenomena of the

world assumed to be correct because thatʼs what enters a personʼs brain? Is it

just something to get used to? Reality is familiarity?

The idea of adventure—Iʼve been making theatre for a long time. Iʼve always

considered theaters appeal one of adventure—not knowing if it will be successful

or not, getting involved with a project just to see what will happen. Stroke has

shifted that playing field. Adventure means NOT KNOWING HOW IT WILL TURN

OUT. In the theatre, you always go home. That’s a given. The lights always go

out, characters parade about, the play concludes with or without meaning—a

stroke “problematizes” all that. It completely shatters all expectations of knowing

how anything will resolve. It taught me that most performance I’ve made or

witnessed has been some facsimile of an adventure.

I improve daily. It might take 2 years to fully recover. I certainly won’t miss the

stroke. But itʼs certainly one of those rip moments in life—the existence before

and after it happened are very clear to me.

-Phil Soltanoff

Name: Jeanne Harris

Title/Occupation: Actress

Name of Team: Dusty Danger Dogs

Where did you grow up and how did you end up where you are now?

My family left the great town of Grand Prarie, TX a year after I was born.  My slightly nomadic parents moved us to San Juan, Puerto Rico.  There, I cried on Santa Claus’ lap for the first time, learned to love baloney and to speak Spanish. I also learned that if you stand in a pile of fire ants you will get stung and then thrown in a bathtub full of water to get the ants away from you.  We left San Juan for Chicago and landed in the Windy City during the blizzard of ’79.  There, I cried after putting my gloveless hand in a snowdrift for the first time. From Chicago we moved to the suburbs of Houston.  There, well, it was the suburbs, so not much happened.

Which performance, song, play, movie, painting or other work of art had the biggest influence on you and why?

Jacques-Louis David’s Death of Socrates. It hangs at the top of the main staircase at the Museum of Fine Arts in NYC. It is my favorite. I think I stared at it for hours over several visits. If I told you why it is such a big influence, I’d have to ask Siri where to put your dead body. Another influence was the first time I watched the New York City marathon live.  It was cold outside. I stood on the sidewalk with a bunch of other cheering, enthralled people and I thought, “If only theatre audiences could feel this sense of euphoria.”  That wasn’t my exact thought. I’m paraphrasing because that was a long time ago.

How did you come up with the name of your team and how do you approach managing it? Tim Braun came up with the name for my team because I know this great dog named Dusty and he is dangerous – until someone tries to break in and then he hides behind the couch. He’s dangerous in his cuteness.  My management approach has been very hands off. You know, letting the computer chips fall where they may.

Is sport art to you? Please explain.

I feel like saying “see above.”  But, yes, I think sport is art. I think sport closely resembles theatre. There’s the obvious reason – people paying money to watch other people do things on some sort of stage/arena.  More than that, it is difficult to watch a sport like football or basketball and not see the fluidity of movement, the spatial awareness between other participants, the spacing of the players on the court or field, the emotions involved, and the intense training that it took them to achieve a couple of great moments.  All of the above are also elements of theatre.  To me, at least.

If you weren’t your “title/occupation” what would you want to be and why?

I would want to be an arborist.

Name:  Natalie George
Title/Occupation: Producing Director – Fusebox Festival and freelance Lighting Designer
Name of Team: The Underbites
Website: www.fuseboxfestival.com

Where did you grow and how did you end up where you are now?

Born in Atlanta. Moved to Houston at age 8. Came to Austin in 1995 to go to St. Ed’s. I’ve wandered to New York many times, but I can never really quit Austin.

Which performance, song, play, movie, painting or other work of art had the biggest influence on you and why? 

Hmmm. Well I grew up surrounded by the arts. My mother and sister were dancers and my father has an art collection that threatens to engulf the entire house.  The love of art and performance in my house was so huge that I really struggled to find my niche. Then I saw Pina Bausch’s Nur Du in 1997. It was love at first site. Dance and theater and everything in between, with the most amazing scenic and lighting design I had ever seen. A performance that felt like a painting come to life. Every moment of every element orchestrated perfectly. I wanted to be in it, I wanted to light it, and I never wanted to stop watching it.

How did you come up with them name of your team and how do you approach managing it?

Most things I name have some reference to my dog, Frankie Smalls, a French Bulldog. I didn’t really have a good strategy for my team. I just picked as many Green Bay Packers as I could. (GO PACK!) I have not played Fantasy Football before so my goal is to lay low this year. Learn by watching. Then take them all by storm next year.

Is sport art to you? Please explain.

Absolutely. The excitement of the game or the opening night. The thrill that anything can happen, but the knowledge that so much time, energy, and training has made these players who they are. The audience love for the individual players or artists. Someone out there loves and cares for each field and blade of grass as much as any set or lighting designer.

If you weren’t your “title/occupation” what would you want to be and why? I’m not sure I can be anything else. But, if I had more free time I would love to make furniture. Form and Function. Pretty wood grains and crazy patterns. Rich fabrics. Yup. I should find some free time.

Name: Joaquin Salazar
Title/Occupation: Math Editor
Name of Team: SupSukers

Where did you grow up and how did you end up where you are now?

Let’s see here, I was born and raised in El Paso, TX. My family moved around quite a bit when I was younger, but I was too young or dumb to notice or care so I don’t remember any of it. We settled in El Paso and that’s where my first real memories take place. Actually, my first real memory is walking into this dilapidated house, that’d I be calling home for the next 15 years or so, and jumping into a puddle of water. I remember my dad just yelling at me, and I couldn’t figure out why. Good times. It’s not as bad as it sounds, just not a lot in El Paso at the time. But it was home. I like to tell people that El Paso is a good place to be from…far away from.

As to how I ended up where I am now, mostly through mistakes and indecision. I left El Paso to attend UT and fell in love with Austin. I never wanted to move back. I got my math degree and stayed in the city. Through various circumstances and happenstances and otherstances, I find myself still in Austin, still trying to put it all together. I’m happy and lucky to be here and I remind myself of that everyday.
Which performance, song, play, movie, painting or other work of art had the biggest influence on you and why?
Two things jumped to mind when I read this question, not that they had a big influence, they just jumped to mind. In the song category it was Livin’ on a Prayer (though Never Saying Goodbye was a close second) by Bon Jovi. I know…still. Bon Jovi was one of the first bands that I knew and followed and those songs cemented some of the cheesier notions in my head. The second thing that came to mind was a painting by Rothko, titled ‘Orange and Tan’. I remember it from a UIL contest I competed in when in the 7^th grade. It really is a painting with half the canvas painted one color and the other half painted the other color. It was the first time I really questioned what art was and how people see it and can react to it in different ways. It really made me think.
How did you come up with them name of your team and how do you approach managing it?

It took me all of 1 minute to come up with a name. I’ve been playing fantasy football for 3 years now and the level of smack talk is sometimes unreal. I mean, I love my momma but that doesn’t mean you should, not in that way. So anyway, I wanted a name that exuded confidence and had a swagger to it, just like when I walk into a place and say, “What’s up suckers?” and the rest is history.

I manage my team by listening to the experts. I enjoy football but I can’t spend every hour watching, reading, studying players and teams.  So, when I hear this guy or that guy is going to have a good day, I give them my own little eyeball test and if they pass, I try and pick up the player. If they do well, I welcome them into my starting line-up.
Is sport art to you? Please explain.

There is grace and beauty in sport. There is an internal drive in competition and to master a skill. There is an art to strategy and an elegance in it’s execution. I don’t know if the sport is art, but the action of sport, the movement of players in competition, the play by design, the game plan, and the ways in which it all comes together and falls apart and split-second decisions have to be made, all of that definitely is. Wait, what did he just say?

If you weren’t your “title/occupation” what would you want to be and why?

If I weren’t a math editor, I’d want to be Ron Berry. He has put together a great group of people and is pushing the conversations about art onto the masses. It’s beautiful.

As a life-long Texan, I think I know what to expect from Texas weather. I like to joke that we only have two seasons, but that’s not really true. We have all four seasons, but spring and fall usually only last a day or so, sometimes only hours, and then we zoom right into hot-as-hell summer or take-your-life-into-your-own-hands icy winter. But last Sunday, when the temperature began to dip and the rain was falling softly and the wind was pushy and persistent, it felt downright autumnal. It was scarf weather. Rub your hands in front of a fire weather.

Whiskey drinkin’ weather.

Luckily enough, last Sunday was Fusebox’s Digestible Feats Spirit Salon American Whiskey Tasting at East Side Show Room, and someone must have told the weather because it sure was setting the mood for the event. The weather was wet and windy and cold, and it was very un-Texas like.

Now, if I’m being honest, and I see no reason to lie, I was a bit apprehensive about the event. If I’m really being honest, I’ll admit that American whiskey and I have not always seen eye to eye. We have, in fact, had our occasional spats. Before last Sunday, I firmly believed that American whiskey was good for exactly two things: shooting and slamming. Anytime I’d drank whiskey in the past I would shoot it back and slam the glass down on the table with a loud “bang,” as if I was in a drinking contest with Marion Ravenwood in a Nepalese tavern. As the firey, gold liquid would make made its way down my throat an involuntary little yipping noise would come squeaking out of my mouth.

Drinking whiskey was simply a means to an end. The means to genuinely enjoy singing along with Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man.” The means to endure the pain of busted knuckles and a split lip after a bar fight. The means to endure the pain of a heartache.

But on Sunday, I put my faith in Hank Cathey, the organizer of the Fusebox’s Digestible Feats Spirit Salon, and my wife and I made our way through the bone chilling fall weather to thoughtfully taste some fine, American whiskey. Unlike Tim Braun, my esteemed colleague, I do not hate Hank Cathey. Honestly, I think I might be falling in love with Hank Cathey. Please don’t tell my wife. Not only is Hank Cathey a lovely and affable man, he’s a helluva event planner. My wife and I have now attended four Digestible Feats events organized by Hank, and they’ve all been flat out amazing. So as I say, I put aside my apprehension and placed my faith in Hank, and I’m sure glad I did.

On that windy and rainy night, we sampled six fantastic whiskeys. We started with a white whiskey, which was biting and sharp, and ended with a golden rye whiskey, which was oaky and comforting. We were also served a classic Mint Julep. I’d never had one before, but the aromatic mint and the cool and ever so slightly sweet whiskey made me wanna use words like “onery” and start sentences with “I do declare!” Jason, the fine bartender at East Side Show Room, also made us a Sazerac, which might very well be the finest drink that’s ever passed over my lips. It was slightly bitter and tangy, which reminded me of the perfect lemon of a forgotten summer, combined with the the bold, soul-warming, golden-flavored whiskey that, if possible, somehow tasted like a melancholic fall evening. It was an utterly perfect drink. It was almost as if Jason had somehow captured the weather in a glass. I felt classy drinking it. In fact, I felt downright fancy.

With a little help from Hank, I was finally able to sip whiskey like a proper gentleman. I was able to detect subtle flavors like tobacco and vanilla. As I sipped and sampled, I suddenly remembered that in Irish, whiskey is called “Uisce Beatha,” which literally means “water of life.” That started to make sense to me. I began to understand whiskey a little bit better, and more importantly, I began to enjoy whiskey better.

And at no point did I make involuntary yipping noises.

As my wife and I left the warm comfort of The East Side Show Room and made our way out into the rainy Sunday night, I no longer felt chilled by the weather, and I was glad I’d trusted Hank Cathey. American whiskey and I had come to accords during the Digestible Feats Spirit Salon, and if the fuzzy-feeling in my chest was any indication, we were on the road to becoming fast friends. I can’t wait for the next Digestible Feats event. There’s no telling what I’ll learn from Hank Cathey next.

-Mark Gifford, Guest Blogger

Name: Graham Reynolds
Title/Occupation: Composer/Bandleader
Name of Team: The Meerkats
Website: www.grahamreynolds.com

Where did you grow and how did you end up where you are now?
I grew up in the very small town of Bethany, CT.  Graduated from college and needed to go somewhere.  Bethany was about two hours from New York and I felt very familiar with it and wanted to try something new.  San Francisco was too expensive.  I had been to Austin once and Iiked so I decided to give it a try and here I still am.

Which performance, song, play, movie, painting or other work of art had the biggest influence on you and why?
What single work of art?  That’s too hard!  But maybe Star Wars?  I was five, it was possibly the first film I had seen on the big screen (definitely the first I remember) and there was nothing about it I didn’t like.

How did you come up with them name of your team and how do you approach managing it?
I had a stack of Smithsonian magazines as a kid.  One of them had a feature on Meerkats and I thought they were the greatest.  I had a meerkat poster.

Is sport art to you? Please explain.
In the broadest possible sense you could say sports are art but it would rarely be helpful or communicate much if you did so.  Language becomes less useful when definitions become that broad.

If you weren’t your “title/occupation” what would you want to be and why?
There are a million things I could have fun doing.  History professor, chef, lighting designer.  Really I find just about any subject interesting if the person I’m with is excited about it.

Name: Dani L. Pruitt
Title/Occupation: Events Manager/Performance Logistics Coordinator, Texas Performing Arts at the University of Texas at Austin. (long, I know)
Name of Team: The Mother Huskers
Website: I started a blog…  if you find it please let me know, there may be a small reward in it for you.
Where did you grow and how did you end up where you are now? 

I grew up in Wichita Falls, TX. When I was looking at colleges I swore that I wouldn’t move any farther south and applied at the University of Colorado at Boulder (too cold), Rhodes in Memphis (too expensive), University of Oklahoma (was threatened out of all family inheritance pending acceptance), and St. Edward’s University (Yes, geographically it’s south).  I came to visit St. Edward’s during scholarship audition weekend and it was love at first taco.  I couldn’t resist the openness and awesomeness of the schools theatre department and the city of Austin.

After graduating from St. Edward’s, I thought I was too cool for school and need a bigger pond to stretch my fins.  I ended up across the pond and lived in London on a work study visa.  If you want to talk about the epic irony of me flying 5,000 miles to get a job at Whole Foods, call me and grab a six pack.  Needless to say, you don’t realize what you have until you lose it, and I realized that Austin had everything for me.  I four months in I came back, and thanks to my friends at Fusebox had a job nailed down in before I boarded the plane out of London.

I really don’t know where the last three years have gone, but it’s been filled with good times, wonderful friends, some shady exes, more lone star than I care to admit, crazy jobs and a great living location lovingly known as ‘the estates.’  As the saying goes, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” so I plan on staying in Austin for the time being.

Which performance, song, play, movie, painting or other work of art had the biggest influence on you and why? 

“What we’ve got here, is a failure to communicate,” that famous line from Cool Hand Luke seems to come to mind first.  I watched so many Paul Newman, Robert Redford and John Wayne movies when I was younger I can’t keep them straight.  My Dad’s weekend obsessions.  I’d have to say that quote is exactly what you DON’T want to happen in my line of work and possibly the only reason that my job exists within the performing arts industry.

The influence of the good guy vs the bad guy, there was never any gray area, it was all black and white.  You were either one of them, or one of us.  Fighting for the weak, standing up for what was right, being a gentleman, working hard, and always minding your manners.  Not a bad set of rules to live by, and I use them all the time.  You’d be surprised how far ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ will get in life.

I think that’s the short answer to the question…
How did you come up with them name of your team and how do you approach managing it? 

I had NO idea how to live draft and really didn’t have a clue on who I should draft.  I’ve been watching Nebraska (Go Huskers!) football since I can remember, so go with what you know.  There are three current Husker alum that I had to have on my team: Alex Henery, Barrett Ruud, and Ndamukong Suh.  The concept of having trash talk and word play in your tame name was too much for me to handle, and that seemed the best option at the time.

My managing style?  Dumb luck.  I really have no idea what I’m doing.
Is sport art to you? Please explain. 

Uh, duh.  As a manager and facilitator of the arts, I find the most magic moments in art are when all of the pieces fit together and the timing is so astounding that you couldn’t have planned it better yourself.  Just like the best parts of life.  We all know the cliche that ‘art imitates life’ and I think sports do that on a more animalistic and ritualistic level than what you would think of as ‘art,’ be it movies, paintings, dancing, whatever…

If you weren’t your “title/occupation” what would you want to be and why?

A baker, mostly cupcakes and cookies.  I love experimenting with new recipes and trying them out on my neighbors and friends.  I hate that baking is more about

presentation than the flavor of the cake.  Gimme something that’s awkward sized with home made frosting dripping down the side, not this evenly baked white cake covered in fondant (sugar wax if you ask me, ew).

“How do you know Hank Cathey, and have you come to hate him as much as I do?” I’m rather certain I asked this question of the artist Michael Krumenacker in the parking lot of a motel off I-35. Krumenacker had flagged me down as we passed each other on the street. He wanted to have a casual conversation at the safest location we could park our trucks. The two of us are old friends from New York City and hadn’t seen each other in months. When I became “friends” with Hank Cathey on Facebook I noticed Krumenacker and I are mutual friends with him.

I place “friends” in quotations because I have come to hate Hank Cathey. Perhaps “hate” is too strong a word. Cathey is intelligent, charming, and even balder than I am (a trait I take very seriously). Oh, and I love seeing and speaking with Cathey at every chance I get. But, last month at Fusebox’s Digestible Feats rum tasting extravaganza at East Side Show Room, in which Hank organized a series of six scrumptious rums, followed by a round of daiquiris, and mai tais, Cathey suggested I sample an Old Fashioned that was built with Smith and Cross rum. This beverage was splendid, so utterly amazing it altered my concept of what a beverage can be to a degree that has made all other drinks look sad and lonely.* Tasting this Smith and Cross laced beauty was as if I had placed a powerful ring on my finger and disappeared with a flash, or had my boat smashed by a white whale on a sea of tranquility. And I don’t impress easily.

Before Hank Cathey I never drank rum. It was nothing more than spiced frat boy booze used to get co-eds frisky. But Cathey opened the world of rum to me. Over the years I didn’t think one could make a good beverage without whiskey, or gin, or tequila for that matter. The week after the rum tasting I attended a wedding in Newport, Rhode Island, and crawled from bar to bar to bar asking for Smith and Cross rum, all of this in failure. I even slinked into a fancy restaurant, you know the kind where old, rich, white people complain about the “help” while they eat lobster and wonder why George Plimpton hasn’t called in some time, and asked for a Smith and Cross Old Fashioned. Surly a swank joint like that would have such fine booze. Once again, rejected. Smith and Cross rum has become my precious, my white whale, my obsession, and I blame Hank Cathey.

The day I ran into Krumenacker I think he was surprised I hate Hank.  Krumenacker reminded me of what a fantastic guy Hank is, and elucidated his love of a good ol’ Cathey beverage. The two had met at a party in which one was the bartender.

This Sunday Hank Cathey has gathered some of the finest bartenders from Peche, Fino, Bar Congress, Contigo, and Haddingtons for the next Fusebox rum event, a Digestible Feats Spirit Challenge in which the bartenders will work with rum. I will not be attending. If Cathey did this to me with an altered Old Fashioned, I can only imagine what more of the finest bartenders in the city could do. At the beginning of the event, the bartenders will be presented with a challenge and given a limited amount of time to make a rum-based cocktail. Guests will be able to sample the cocktails with proceeds benefiting Fusebox. I highly suggest you attend this event and send me an email when it is all said and done. Please describe the drinks to me in immaculate detail, and don’t be afraid to tell me how much you “hate” my friend Hank Cathey.

-Timothy Braun, Editor-In-Chief of New And Social Media

* Please note: I clearly joke a great deal, but please be advised that these drink events do have a large amount of alcohol. When attending Fusebox events, such as Digestible Feats, please consider how you intend to get home, or feel free to ask a Fusebox employee to call you cab.

Name: Brad Carlin
Title/Occupation: Managing Director, Fusebox
Name of Team: Collective & Bargain
Website: fuseboxfestival.com

Where did you grow and how did you end up where you are now?

I grew up all over Texas, my dad is in the oil/natural gas game so we spent time in Corpus Christi (twice), Houston (twice), burbs of Dallas/Fort Worth (twice), and Austin. For those most formative teen years our family was in the DFW suburbs. Not Dallas. Not Fort Worth. Not much of anywhere, really.

I left DFW to go to undergrad at St. Edward’s University in Austin. I was going to be a stage actor. I had no interest in film or TV, thought I would make my living on the boards. I met Ron Berry when he cast me in my first non-St. Eds play in Austin about 12 years ago. I spent the next five or six years finishing school and working in nearly every theater in town in all kinds of roles: electrician, book keeper, set designer, lighting designer, sound designer, director, producer, and acting. Then I got tired.

I was tired of working on plays I was not really excited about just to get that paycheck. I was tired of watching my more talented my friends slinging sammies at thundercloud to make the rent between gigs, and tired of watching local theater orgs struggle to keep their artistic companies and facilities from falling apart. I left Austin to get a Masters Degree in Arts Management from Carnegie Mellon. After graduation, I took a job in NYC working for Anne Bogart and  SITI Company. I was lured back to Austin to help run Salvage Vanguard Theater after the founder left, but that opportunity was more like a third year of grad school in crisis management and I had to make a change. With a baby on the way, I took a job raising money for the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center in San Antonio before finally returning to Austin one more (last) time to work with Ron and Natalie at Fusebox.

Which performance, song, play, movie, painting or other work of art had the biggest influence on you and why?

Thus far, the work of SITI Company has had be biggest impact on me. Not just a single play (although Death and the Ploughman or bobrauschenbergameria were probably the the most potent gateway drugs) but their approach to making work, training, and living in this country as an ensemble that has survived for two decades through marriages, kids, divorce, debt, and all the other ups/downs of being working artists in the US. The individuals in the ensemble, as much as the company’s work, have had (and continue to have) a major influence on my work and taste as an artist and an arts manager. My training in contemporary/experimental/avant guard theater, in touring/presenting, and managing an artist-driven organization all came from SITI, and is at the foundation of my work today.

How did you come up with them name of your team and how do you approach managing it?

Being a good lefty and student of labor/management dynamics, I took my name from the document that was at the center of the NFL lockout this year – the new Collective Bargaining Agreement. I approach managing my team like I would manage an organization: get a little obsessed with data but be at peace with the fact that luck will trump all the number crunching. I believe that we can make our own luck in fantasy football and arts organizations, however, you  just can’t hold yourself responsible for your number one draft pick blowing his knee out in the first game of the season, or that an ice storm hits  south Texas on the day of your big fundraising event and nobody shows up.

Is sport art to you? Please explain.

Absolutely. Both provide entertainment, both require extensive training to be done well, both have existed and evolved through all of human history, and in both fields there is huge income inequality for practitioners. Sport and art thrive on narrative, live experiences, and deep connections between the audience/fan and the artist/athlete. I had a mentor tell me that actors are emotional athletes, but I think the same could be said for an artist in any medium.

If you weren’t your “title/occupation” what would you want to be and why?

Its hard to think that I would not be working in the arts in some capacity – its been clear to me since I was very young that I wanted to work int he arts. But if I was not working to make art (or facilitating others making art) I would probably be in public service – naïvely thinking that I could make the world a better place to live through policy or government.

Fusebox’s Ron Berry interviewed Ava Verity & Jenna Winter From Mammalian Diving Reflex (MDR) over beers about Haircuts as well as MDR’s other work with children and adults.

Ron: Talk a little about the origins of Haircuts By Children.

MDR: Darren [Mammalian Diving Reflex Artistic Director] was at a conference and a little bored, so he went wandering. He wanted to get a haircut, and saw a pair of scissors nearby, so he asked a kid that was around if he would cut his hair. The kid initially refused, but Darren persisted telling the kid, “Its ok, I give you permission.” That interaction between the kid and Darren sparked a lot of questions about the limitations we put on kids, and therefore the limitations they put on themselves.

The piece is political. The limitations we place on kids have broad impact and it translates to voting. After 18 years of being out of the loop, explicitly told their opinions don’t count, we give them a voting card and expect them to pay attention and be engaged. Haircuts are a good metaphor for examining this dynamic, placing adults’ heads in the hands of children. If we ask people,  ‘What scares you more? Letting kids vote or getting your hair cut by a kid?’ most would say its the haircut.

Ron: Tell me a little about your experience with taking this project all over the world.

MDR: The thing that amazes me is that people actually sign up and come to get their hair cut by a child. People always come, and they love it. It’s amazing to see a community come together.

What do we, as a society, do to facilitate trust between children and adults? We push “stranger danger” all the time, which actually makes it harder for kids to be able to go to adults with their issues or questions. Projects like Haircuts allows for an inter-generational connection in the community.

A guy came to get his hair cut in Prague and brought sweets for the kids. The adults who were present immediately questioned his motives. But he was just being nice, he left his email and phone number. Activities like this build trust between adults and children and increase the number of people in a community who know and will look out for the well being of young people. Kids are smart people, they are often more creative and brave than adults. The fairy tale of innocent, unknowing, children is misplaced. They have more to offer.

There was the one kid who was small, quiet, and less social, but really took to the hair cutting. Normally the kids work in pairs, but he worked solo. He had such focus and attention to detail that when he was cutting this woman’s hair he drew in all the other people in the salon. They all stopped what they were doing and watch him and when he finished the room broke into applause.

The confidence of the kids grows so much in just 2 days of working in the salon. They went from cutting a small amount, and being very slow and timid, to total ownership of the project at all levels. When you give them an opportunity like this they are hesitant at first, but after they do it, they believe in themselves.

There is always at least one band-aid required and it is often just a kid nicking their own finger. The kids take it really seriously, they know its a big responsibility. They don’t want to disappoint. When they make a mistake, they are encouraged to be creative, but the mistakes usually come in the execution of the kids own ideas. There isn’t any “wrong” in their creative choices.

Ron: How does this project fit in the context of other MDR work?

MDR: There are other projects with themes of trust, children’s rights, putting children and adults in social situations the wouldn’t normally be in together. Darren calls this work “Stealth Pedagogy.”

Mammalian Diving Reflex developed this project called These Are The People in Your Neighborhood. It was inspired by research in a book by Warwick Cairns (How to Live Dangerously: Why We Should All Stop Worrying and Start Living) that says, statistically, if you left your kid on a street corner it would take 200,000 years for them to be abducted; 600,000 years for them to be abducted for more than 24 hours, and several million years for them to be murdered. The book also notes that it is actually far more dangerous to leave children at home with family (the vast majority of child-murders happen at home and the killers are more often parents, relatives or family friends). So in the project, the kids go around the neighborhood meet business owners, restaurant owners, and neighbors. Then they offer walking tours around the neighborhood for adults. It builds community.

We have a project called Children’s Choice Awards where a group of kids are given VIP treatment at an arts festival, red carpet – everything, and get to see all the work at the festival. They then develop their own awards and put on their own awards show as part of the festival.

Eat the Street is similar to Children’s Choice. The kids act as restaurant critics, they eat at 10 restaurants with adults. The adults tend to be more generous and forgiving with children present (less sending back of food, less complaining to waiters) because they are having a good time. The adults become more receptive to the situation. Kids force you to be authoritarian or an anarchist. There is no middle ground. They force you to choose.

Ron: What about your work not dealing with children?

MDR: The Best Sex I’ve Ever Had works with adults over 65 talking about their sex lives now and throughout their lives. There is a huge communication gap between the old and young in regard to sexuality. We innately cringe at the thought, and try to ignore it, but there is a wealth of knowledge, experience, and ideas from the older generation. It’s amazing and interesting but no one is talking about it. Each single person has such an interesting story to tell about sex and love, but the story is not being told inter-generationally. Not just sex, but for example we have heard remarkable stories about growing up as a homosexual in the mid and early 20th century. There are stories not being told. That door is shut. Hammered shut.

Another Project was Floating Curator. The concept was simple: Darren drafted an airtight contract that required a curator (Christine Shaw) to spend an hour- and-a-half per day for five days in August floating in the shallow end of Toronto’s Alexandra Park outdoor pool, approaching children and becoming their friends. Grades were assigned for – among other things – participation, convincing the kids to take her photo, time spent with the children outside the confines of the

pool area and connecting with kids of different races. If Christine did not achieve a grade of 50% or more, she had to remove all traces of the project from her website and accompanying material and, when referencing the project, she had to declare: “Children do not exist.”

Ron: I love that your work raises lots of interesting questions about the public sphere–it’s such a complex, often loaded area.

MDR: Yes, its a door that art can open, and look at what is acceptable to change or examine in a community.  In 2006 the blackouts all over the east coast also provided a lot of inspiration for these projects. For example, in Toronto, people were walking home together because the subway was not working. They were talking to each other and experiencing communities they usually miss. Its amazing how that one event really changed the social dynamic.