#darcy may

[fawn-x]

Glitter Fairies Stickers from 2004 by Darcy May. Little Dover Activity Books

cover and other pieces of the inside of the booklet under the cut

[picturebookshelf]

Jingle Bells (2001)

Original Song: James Lord Pierpont -- Art: Darcy May

[the-storytellers-inglenook]

Hans found the Princess sitting at the window of her chamber, hair streaming down, coiling through the open shutters, as if her soul were contained in the auburn tresses and sought to escape. He walked into the room and she jumped up. Jumped up before her betrothed. Her father had not exaggerated. She was promised to a monster. And yet, when the creature spoke, his voice was the voice she had always imagined her husband would possess, a voice of woodwind, of dark notes, a true voice. “Do you know of me, Princess?” the voice asked. “I do, sir,” she replied. “You saved my father and he owes you his life.” Hans nodded. “But do you know of his promise to me?” he demanded. “He promised you the first thing to greet him on his return.” She looked at the blue, blue eyes, the pointy nose, the carpet of quills. “I am yours, sir, to do with what you will.” The quills bristled, the blue eyes sparked and flinted. “Then, I claim you for my bride,” he said. “I want you to come and live with me in the forest. I want you for my Princess of Sweetness and Cherry Pie. I want to catch you up and sing to you and snoodle you and hug you to bits. I want you to love me.” A single tear crept down the Princess’s sweet cheek. “Then, so be it,” she whispered. “Do you find me very ugly?” asked her husband-to-be. “Not so ugly as going back on a promise,” she declared and felt the tear slide from her face to the floor. — Hans My Hedgehog, by The Grimm Brothers, retold by Anthony Minghella. Artwork by Darcy May.

[the-storytellers-inglenook]

The next morning, the Troll woke Anya before the birds had begun or the light had appeared. “Arise and wakey!” he growled, shaking her, “I’m having another job for you.” And while Anya struggled to open her eyes, he set about locking a chain to her ankle, licking the two teeth which protruded from his lower lip. He dragged the sleepy girl from the house, yanking on the chain so that she could barely keep her balance, but must hop and jump behind him, the clasp biting into her flesh. “Come on, come on!” the Troll roared. “Haven’t got all daylight,” and pulled her to a pond at the back of his garden. “Observe this pond,” said the Troll, observing it. “Deep, you’d say, and you’d be right. Depth a-plenty.” He pulled out a spoon from his pocket and thrust it into her hand. “Drain it,” he ordered, his little legs rocking under the weight of his head. “Drain it with this spoon.” Anya looked at the little spoon then at the deep pond. “If I be returning back and forth and find a single drop of water… if I so much as gets my foots wet…” The Troll stabbed one of his three fingers at her, menacingly, “then heaven help me!” With that, he tied Anya’s chain to a tree and skipped off with a cruel giggle. Alone, Anya bent to the pond and dipped in the spoon. As she retrieved it, the water poured through a hundred tiny holes. For the Troll had given her a sieve for the task. Impossible! Impossible! She tried and tried and cried and cried until her tears raised the level of the pond more quickly than the sieved spoon could reduce it. She slumped back on the bank in despair, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. When she opened them, she was face-to-face with the great white Lion. “Oh, Lion!” she cried, “My spoon is full of holes, my tears increase the water.” “You’re tired, my little,” whispered the Lion. “Lie down and sleep a while.” Anya shook her head. “I dare not,” she told him, “for my lord, the Troll, will beat me with his terrible stick.” But even as she spoke, she felt so drowsy, so heavy, so pillow and blanket, that she lay back in the grass and in a moment was asleep. And in her dream the Lion pad-padded to the pond and drank and drank and drank his fill until he had drunk it dry. When she woke, Anya saw a hole where once there had been water and she could not believe it. “Oh, Lion!” she cried, but again he had disappeared. — The True Bride, based on the German fairytale by The Grimm Brothers, retold by Anthony Minghella. Artwork by Darcy May.

[goblinkwain]

darcy may

[larryland]

Raising a Chorus for "Tosca" at Hubbard Hall

Raising a Chorus for “Tosca” at Hubbard Hall

A great opportunity to have fun, work with a professional opera company and perform in a classic with minimal time commitment. 

Hubbard Hall and the Opera Company Middlebury (OCM) are seeking volunteer choristers to perform in the OCM’s production of Tosca at Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY on Thursday, October 17 at 7 pm.

OCM is touring Tosca to locations in New York and Vermont. At each location,…

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[larryland]

by Gail M. Burns

Immediately after seeing The Velocity of Autumn at Hubbard Hall, I posted a few glowing sentences on Facebook. I meant every word of them – as a professional theatre critic I would not have made the statement publicly if I didn’t! But saying that I loved or hated or had questions about a production is not a review, it is an opinion. The purpose of a review is to defend the opinion, which is what I will do here.

Simply put, this is a well written play with plausible, relatable characters and the perfect balance of drama and comedy. This handsome production –set by Darcy May and lighting by Calvin Anderson – is lovingly directed by David Snider. Christine Decker and Oliver Wadsworth – both excellent, experienced actors who miraculously live locally – are not only perfect in their respective roles, but they make an energetic team and are thoroughly believable as mother and son.

This is certainly not the first play I’ve seen about adult children and their aging parents. But it is one of the best because it deals with the joys and challenges of both the mother and the son. Christopher (Wadsworth) is in midlife, his work as an artist has stalled, his most recent relationship ended two years ago, he has moved many thousands of mile to end up in a menial job, and he is estranged from his widowed mother and two older siblings.

His mother, Alexandra (Decker) is a woman with a great many of her marbles still in place, but she is slipping, and she knows it, and the one thing she clings to tenaciously is her right to be herself and deal with aging and death on her own terms. This is completely consistent with everything we learn about her over the course of the play. She has always been independent, leaving home at a young age, traveling the world, having some adventures and some affairs before settling down to a long and happy marriage and raising three children in a brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn. She was an artist, but age-related problems now prevent her from both painting and enjoying her past work.

Her older children, the unseen Michael and Jennifer, fear that their mother is no longer able to care for herself and want to put her in a nursing home. In response she has barricaded herself inside the brownstone with Molotov Cocktails crafted from her late husband’s photographic developing fluid and her own collection of silk scarves. If they attempt to come in and take her away, she will blow herself, indeed probably the whole city block, to kingdom come. In desperation, they call Christopher to see if he can reason with their mother. He gains entrance by climbing the tree outside the living room window – marvelously render by May – because he remembers that that window cannot be locked. Outside Michael and Jennifer wait with the police, ready to forcibly enter and remove Alexandra if Christopher fails.

There they are, face to face, after 20 years apart. That is the beginning. From there playwright Eric Coble takes us through an intricate reunion that is deeply touching. Coble wisely weaves in some genuine humor to leaven the seriousness of the situation, but this is not a comedy.

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I hate “cute” plays about older people. There is nothing “cute” about old age. I hate the Golden Girls model too, where older people do nothing but curse and talk about sex for laughs. Alexandra didn’t tolerate cursing from her children when they were young and she’s not going to take it now – which is also good for some laughs. Christopher’s sexual preference is also not a big deal and doesn’t warrant more than a few lines to establish that he is currently single. This is a play about the larger things in life, like what makes each person unique and how we use those identifiers to build a life.

As soon as the play ended the full house I attended with let out a collective sound that indicated great satisfaction. Coble had given them the ending they wanted, one that moved both characters forward into a new adventure. As soon as Wadsworth and Decker re-emerged for their bows the audience leapt to their feet. This was no perfunctory standing ovation, this was an audience genuinely expressing their gratitude for the actors’ artistry.

I asked Wadsworth afterwards if performing the play wasn’t taxing for him physically and emotionally, and he smiled broadly and replied that he and Decker were having fun doing the show together, which is exactly why the audience gave them a standing ovation, because that professional pleasure oozed over the non-existent footlights and animated the play.

The Velocity of Autumn by Eric Coble, directed by David Snider, runs February 23 – March 11, 2018, in the Freight Depot Theater at Hubbard Hall. Technical director Kristoffer A. Ross; scenic design by Darcy May; lighting design by Calvin Anderson; costume design by Sherry Recinella; stage manager Dan Salzer. CAST: Christine Decker as Alexandra and Oliver Wadsworth as Christopher.

Tickets are $30 Adults/$15 Students Ages 6-22, Seniors 62 and older $25. Preview price $15 Adults/$5 Students Ages 6-22.  Hubbard Hall Center for Arts and Education, is located at 25 East Main Street in Cambridge, NY. For tickets and more information call 518-667-2495 or visit http://www.hubbardhall.org

REVIEW: “The Velocity of Autumn” at Hubbard Hall by Gail M. Burns Immediately after seeing The Velocity of Autumn at Hubbard Hall, I posted a few glowing sentences on Facebook.

[larryland]

Bob Warren & Friends Celebrate a "Small Town World" in Concert

Bob Warren & Friends Celebrate a “Small Town World” in Concert

Bob Warren   GREENWICH, NY (July 6,2017) – Celebrated singer/songwriter Bob Warren will present a paean in song to his hometown of Greenwich in Small Town World, a free concert that is part of the Greenwich Free Library‘s live music series, “Music is Living History.” The event is slated for Saturday, August 5, 7 p.m., at the Greenwich High School Auditorium, 10 Gray Avenue, Greenwich. Warren will…

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