The Secrets of A Mockingbird, a solo show written and performed by Prudence Wright Holmes based on the life of Harper Lee, author of To Kill A Mockingbird. This show will be featured in this year’s Scranton Fringe Festival. It will be presented September 27 at 6 p.m., September 29 at 4:30 p.m., and September 30 at 5 p.m. at The Space at The Olive, 541 Wyoming Ave, #2, Scranton, PA 18503.
In the show, audiences will learn the secrets of this beloved but reclusive author who had close relationships with her father, lawyer A.C. Lee and her childhood friend, Truman Capote. They both broke her heart. She never wrote another book. Until she did.
Ms. Wright Holmes is an accomplished actor who is best known for her co-starring role in the popular movies, Sister Act I and II with Whoopi Goldberg. She also recently completed the new Coen Brothers movie, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs with James Franco and Liam Neeson. She has appeared in four Broadway shows, including Happy End with Meryl Streep, Inherit the Wind with George C. Scott, Letticeand Lovage with Maggie Smith and The Light in the Piazza. She has written and performed four solo shows-Bexley, OH!, which received rave reviews off Broadway, The Secrets of A Mockingbird, Willa Cather, Her Life and Loves; and Agatha is Missing, which recently played to sold out houses at The Edinburgh Fringe Festival in Scotland.
Ms. Wright Holmes has ties to the Scranton area. She owned a home in the Poconos for several years and spent many happy hours in Scranton visiting her in-laws, George and Marge Rohulich, who lived in Clark Summit. She is very happy to be returning to this area again.
The children at the Olde Brick Theatre have a spectacular play prepared for Scranton this summer. They will be performing Bella Saves The World: A Frolic, an original play written by local playwright, Michael Pavese.
I had the privilege to speak to two of the youngsters performing in this show last week. Thirteen-year-old Rusty Morgan was one of them. This is Rusty’s first show with Diva Theater Productions. In this play, he’s performing the role of Riley the Chicken. Rusty admits that Riley is one of the smartest characters in the play—one who knows lots of definitions. Riley is one of the good guys who helps Bella the Labradoodle figure out how to stop the machinations of Marquez the Chihuahua and his evil gang who, of course, are trying to take over the world.
Not a stranger to the Diva stage, Kelly Phillips (age 11) shared that she is on Marquez’s team of bad guys playing Sidney the Badger. Her character, along with Marquez, Sophie the Porcupine, and Flash the Fox, try to conquer the world. Bella and her friends must work hard to try to stop them.
The show is actually a musical, complete with singing and dancing, according to director, Laura M. Heffron. She and her production team are orchestrating quite a feat with a cast of twenty-nine youngsters. She insists though that with the patient crew and determined and talented children in the play, it’s been gratifying to work towards making an extraordinary show as a team.
Both Rusty and Kelly share that the best part of working on this show is the new friends they’ve made. They both seem to want to return to Diva’s free summertime program next time around. They feel everyone should come see the show because everyone is working hard to make it an outstanding production, and that it’s a really funny play.
Come have a good time atBella Saves The World: A Frolicwhich runs August 2, 3, and 4 at 7:30 p.m. and August 5 at 2:00 p.m. Seating is limited, but you can reserve your seats by calling Diva Theater Productions at 570-209-7766.
C4 Studios is proud to announce we will be performing, Sound and Song: Overdone & Over-Sung at The Scranton Fringe Festival,this Fall! It features “the Broadway songs we love to hate, and hate to love, but always sing along.”
Auditions are continuing until Sunday, August 5th, 2018!
Today’s featured “15 Seconds of Art” is a snapshot of a weekend in Atlantic City, New Jersey. I find inspiration in quirky details, architecture, and people watching. You can see more of my photography on Instagram: thirtythirdwheel
Today’s featured local NEPA based artist is Cloud Bembenek. Cloud wrote about himself in his following artist’s statement:
Cloud Bembenek studied Illustration and Design at The University of the Arts in Philadelphia, graduating with a BFA. He focuses on symbolic design and illustration with a strong sense of type and overwhelming work ethic. His influences run from the history of Russian posters to contemporary metal iconography. He enjoys design tasks that provide space for problem solving and working as a part of a team.
Dive in into my first day of Summer on the streets of Scranton, Pennsylvania. I am inspired by nature, architecture, and the simple random things in life. Check out my work on Instagram: thirtythirdwheel
Siobhan Casey is a writer originally from NEPA. She wrote the following about herself and her work:
Siobhan Casey completed her Master’s in Fine Arts at Chatham University in 2011 where she studied Poetry and Creative Nonfiction. She worked as an assistant editor on the graduate publication, The Fourth River: A Journal of Nature and Place Based Writing as well as Assistant Poetry editor for Weave Magazine. Siobhan also spent time as a creative intern on Creative Nonfiction. Her work has been published in Blood Orange Review, Caper Literary Journal, Rougarou, Monongahela Review, and Coal Hill Review. She published a chapbook of poetry, Three Fourths of a Dream in 2016 and presented her work at the Scranton First Friday Arts Festival. She currently lives in Pittsburgh with her cat, Zooey.
Siobhan included the following poems: That Time I Met Buddha, Story, Mary Oliver Way, and Ode to Objects that Hold.
That Time I Met Buddha
The stones, they
were hands pressed
hard along my vertebrae. Hot,
they formed straight
lines, rows of fires along my legs.
who didn’t claim to be a healer
said that she was born in Hong Kong
and that she was Buddha
that she was a man with power
in her previous life.
−and when I opened my eyes
I was not the same.
I was pure light, weightless.
The dark was not so dark
and the boats were not so far.
The beginning is always improbable: a good hook. You can sense
a seed blowing through the air about to land, anywhere, and turn into
peony or zinnia or, human.
all conflict—a bar fight, communal
shunning, disease, or storm after storm on a broken raft.
If the story is good, the conflict
is so much like the one you are living and yet
not so to the naked eye.
It is one you can feel in your breastbone, in your sleep,
and you mention it to your bedmate
the breath knocked out of you each time
you finish a chapter.
When the story finds its end
you are stunned or unsurprised. Either
way you would like to return
to the moment when the seedling fell from the tree
a magical thing at your feet,
and was just about to become.
Mary Oliver Way
The world blossoms, whether or not we are ready.
The violets and vines creep without design. The backyards purple into blue, cracked asphalt hot underfoot. To the right: a gym with graffiti-d doors. Painted ice cream cones and a man lifting a barbell, his face rendered in the peripheral. The latest addition: a swan with folded wings who floats like a snowy apparition in the winter.
It’s a short meditation, this path, before it breathes onto the boulevard.
To the left: rows of houses, unkempt gardens and stoops where the neighbors, my neighbors, exchange recipes and slumlord stories. Where grandmothers take care of the children and call them in for supper at six o’clock before mothers and fathers return home from their shifts, feet aching.
I walk this alley often. The cats follow, slinking out of garages if the sun is low enough in the sky.
I am learning, like this, to be soft and rooted. To grow whether or not you are visible, not in defiance but in awe.
Ode to Objects that Hold
Julia said I would hear the bagpipes
once it was warm again. And finally
they woke me, the sound clear
on a Saturday morning.
I climbed the fence.
like I would have as a child, my fingernails chipped
from so much living.
A young girl, sixteen, was playing
in Schenley park, under a grove of trees.
I’m not sure how this sound can exist,
holding the opposition
of joy and sorrow together.
metal feathers hang from my ears
and the only sound I can make out is
sleet on the horses
where the fields shiver.
I want to build
a fire. I want to make blue white sparks
so the horses and I can warm ourselves and keep ourselves safe.
Instead, I walk home
and take comfort from solid names
like shelf and bed and tea-kettle
the things that hold
and do not cave.
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