Debra Cash
This, my friends, is what a capital D Diva looks like.
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“The only way to keep the music alive is to view it as a living thing and support artists who approach it that way, rather than as a museum piece.”
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Arlekin Players Theatre’s “The Dybbuk” may not convince you of the supernatural, but director Igor Golyak is a magician.
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You either go full Hollywood CGI, or you pare it down to the poetry of it.
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This small volume is apt to become a classic that is passed hand to hand.
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In “BLACK HOLE,” the TRIBE trio moves as if learning for the first time how their skeletons and muscles are constrained and empowered, perplexed and bedazzled, by gravity’s incontrovertible power.
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Too, too soon, the images in MOMIX’s “Alice” alternate between unpleasant and stale.
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As the first draft of documenting choreographer Alexei Ratmansky’s career, this book will be invaluable, but by the end of it, the story may look somewhat different.
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We’re not saying get rid of “Madama Butterfly” We’re saying do a better Butterfly.
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Here’s this week’s poem, Debra Cash’s “The Boat: April 19, 2013.”
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