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Tag / hawai’i

Ripped Headlines: Reem Bassous’ “Memory For Forgetfulness”

They had come on a quiet day in the middle of the week, which meant that the Honolulu Museum of Art was nearly empty. As they walked the labyrinthine villa that made up the museum’s sprawling campus, Dania and Eleanor walked close together, in an agoraphobic bond.

“I thought there would be more art by Hawaiian artists here,” Gwen muttered, passing another room of Japanese block prints.

“Why?” Eleanor asked. “It’s not like the Art Institute has a section dedicated to Chicago artists.”

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Playing Along: Nothing Without A Company’s “Pakalolo Sweet”

“It had to get dramatic, didn’t it?”

“Was it not already?” asked Eleanor, as they walked carefully across the astroturf lining the ground in the Berger Park Coach House. The space, a tight blackbox in the center of a park on the edge of Lake Michigan, felt tightly cramped when oriented in a traditional proscenium setting.

“Well, yeah, it was, but I had hope it would stay upbeat about it,” Dania mused. “It wasn’t like Batu, last year. That was dramatic the whole way through. This one felt like it suddenly decided to be a drama halfwa––”

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The Tourist Trap: Kumu Kahua Theatre’s “Ua Pau (It Is Finished, Over, Destroyed)”

It had been a while since they’d attended anything at the theatre that could be truthfully described as “intense.” There had been tension in their recent outings –– Out Of Love and Ms. Blakk For President found appropriate balances of sweetness and drama –– but it had been more than a year since anything went as dark as quickly as Ua Pau.

“Lots of shouting,” Dania commented, as they walked out of the theatre.

“Well, it’s a family drama,” Eleanor agreed. “That’s what ends up happening when all the secrets come out.”

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Cultural Commodities: Nothing Without A Company’s “Not One Batu”

The house lights rose – as much as they could in the already illuminated space – just as Eleanor was already standing. The patter of rain against the concrete step could be heard through the open door, though she noted that it had been stronger during the performance than now.

“We should bolt,” Eleanor said to Dania and Gwen, still seated. Gwen might not have even heard, her gaze fixed intently on the author’s note.

“Hey,” Eleanor repeated, tapping Gwen’s shoulder.

“What?”

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