#Todd B. Gruel

[mariacallous]

(JTA) — Joanna Merlin, a famed acting coach and casting director who early in her career as an actress created the role of Tevye’s daughter Tzeitel in the original Broadway production of “Fiddler on the Roof,”died Sunday in Los Angeles. She was 92.

NYU’s Graduate Acting program at the Tisch School of the Arts, where she became a member of the faculty in 1998, announced her passing on Monday.

Merlin was a student of the acting teacher Michael Chekhov and said to be the last surviving disciple still teaching his technique. Chekhov, a nephew of the playwright Anton Chekhov, was a student of Konstantin Stanislavski, putting Merlin in a direct line of influence with the Russian creator of the naturalistic acting technique that came to be known as “the system” (and, when adapted by the Jewish acting mavericks Lee Strasberg and Stella Adler, as “The Method”).

In an interview for the 2016 PBS documentary series “American Masters,” Merlin said she auditioned eight times before the director of “Fiddler,” Jerome Robbins, and creators Sheldon Harrnick and Jerry Bock were convinced she could handle the role of the daughter who ends up marrying Motel the tailor (a young Bette Midler later took over the role).

She also recalled how Robbins prepared the cast for their roles as Jews living in a 19th-century shtetl by talking about the world of the play, showing them paintings by Marc Chagall and taking them to a Hasidic wedding in Brooklyn.

“My own family actually came from a shtetl. My mother was actually born in a shtetl and my father was also born in Russia,” she recalled. “But a large portion of the cast was not Jewish, and so [Robbins] made sure that everybody felt as though they understood what that life was like.”

Merlin went on to other actor acting roles, including in the films “Sarah’s Key,” “Mystic Pizza,” “Fame” and “The Killing Fields,” and had a recurring part in the TV series “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” as Judge Lena Petrovsky.

But she had even greater success as a casting director, working with the film directors Bernardo Bertolucci  and James Ivory, and most closely with the legendary producer Harold Prince in the original Broadway productions of several classic Stephen Sondheim musicals, including “Company,” “Follies,” “A Little Night Music,” “Pacific Overtures,” “Sweeney Todd” and “Merrily We Roll Along.”

She was the  founder and president emeritus of The Michael Chekhov Association, or MICHA, an acting school in New York City. One student, Broadway actress Julie Benko, paid tribute to her teacher in an Instagram post Monday. “I will not forget the breakthrough I had in her class,” said Benko, who won praise as the understudy to Lea Michele and Beanie Feldstein in the recent Broadway production of “Funny Girl” and stars in the  forthcoming Barry Manilow musical “Harmony.” “I will miss her beautiful presence. I am so honored to have been a small part of her life.”

Born Joanna Ratner in Chicago in in 1931, she took her mother’s maiden name as a stage name. She acted in community theater before graduating from UCLA  and later studied under Chekhov, a Russian exile who died in 1955. Merlin made her first screen appearance in 1956 as one of Jethro’s daughters in Cecil B. DeMille’s film “The Ten Commandments.” “Fiddler” debuted in 1964, and she left the cast before the end of its tour to take care of her two small children. She took to the more flexible schedule of being a casting director and teacher.

Merlin was the author, in 2001, of “Auditioning: An Actor-Friendly Guide.”

“I think that actors respond to casting directors who are supportive and encouraging, and that if they feel that the moment they walk in the room they’re being challenged, then it’s a turn-off,” Merlin told interviewer Terry Gross in 2001. “But it’s very helpful to an actor if they feel that you’re on their side. And indeed, casting directors are rooting for you. I mean, they want to cast the role. And so they’re rooting for every actor that walks in the door.”

[lovecinnatwist]

Hope u stay safe and healthy! Abo with omega dick and alpha Jay, fluff if possible? Thanks :)

Hi Anon! I am in fact safe and healthy! Have a nice little ficlet of Alpha!Jason and Omega!Dick being very glad that their little pup is also safe, healthy and coming home.

Where the heart is - JayDick Omegaverse

Tags: Kid Fic, Omegaverse, Alpha Jason, Omega Dick, surrogate parent/adoption, lactating/milking Helena Wayne is Helena Mary Grayson Todd

Sometimes Dick Grayson forgets that his mate is an alpha.

It’s easy to do when Jason’s so sweet in a way that’s distinctively omegan. Perhaps it’s the influence of the mother who left him or remnants from the tender affection B only had for his second pup. It’s something soft and tender and so uniquely him that makes Dick love him more and more everyday.

Jason curls around him effortlessly. Warm muscles squeeze tight enough to be pleasant, but not chafing.

Dick has always been a runner. Jason understands that and leaves a clear exit open at all times. A difficult obstacle for traditional courting rituals. Not that the alpha had any challenge clearing hurdle after hurdle. Jason is anything but traditional as well.

So is their current situation.

A large warm hand rests on his shoulder. The heat bleeding out is more than soothing to his already twitching instincts. There’s no reason to be nervous. After all this is a natural occurrence. The pup with latch, Dick knows it will but still his heart flutters with nervousness.

Jason’s rumble soothes the eagerness away. It quells the barrage of emotions ready to burst.

“ Mr and Ms Grayson - Todd? “

The agent from CPS is wonderfully nice, light brown eyes glittering with excitement. The delightful purr of her tone of voice betrays her enthusiasm. Just as Jason’s rise in happy-hopeful-ready betrays his. Dick’s been dreaming of this day for a long time. Long before the aspiration had been stolen from him by a knife. Then again by age and a barely functioning body strung out by high stress.

It’s Jason’s strength that helps him stand.

The sleepy scent of milk and pup adorn the air like perfume. Even before Dick spots his- no their- daughter, every part of his instincts sing. His breast began to ache immediately. The grueling weeks of hormone treatments and supplements are finally worth it.

Worth it as Doctor Leslie gives him tiny, little Helena.

Dick thinks he’s been in love with her since the moment he saw her behind glass. From the moment his breast began to ache when they gave him a few of her blankets to add to his nest. From the very moment Jason told him he could have her.

She’s heavy in a way Dick doesn’t expect. The weight is foreign yet so comfortable to bear. The alpha does not press to see her, or to touch her. Dick gets a few precious moments to marvel at the prettiest pup he’s ever seen.

Gorgeous green eyes open up in seemingly joyful curiosity. Though potentially, it might just be his hopeful outlook that makes it appear that way. Dick wants so badly for her to love him. To love them- to belong to their little broken family. To an omega who is half of what they should be and an alpha who is dysphoric instead of dominating.

The scent of milk is strong enough to draw the pup to root amongst the fabric covering his breast. It’s a gentle motion, one made precious by the very soft sounds of pup calling for pack. Dick’s throat is tight from emotion. Luckily his partner wastes no time in letting out a soothing rumble. The vibrations of the action shakes against his back.

Hot tears sting two different sets of blue eyes.

“She should be quite hungry. It’s time for her lunch time feeding. I’m sure she would greatly appreciate milk from her mommy. “

The word mommy devastates him. It washes his soul out to sea, and wraps him in a whirlpool of bliss. It’s too much and not enough at the same. This child- this pup is going to see him as her dame. She will spend the rest of her life in a warm safe nest never knowing anything but love and affection. Dick hopes that she will love him despite not being apart of her DNA. For not being able to give birth to her himself.

Jason’s touch breaks the track of that train of thought.

It’s a dance to bring a beading nipple to her hungry little mouth. Jason, who is leagues more natural, helps Dick undress and get both him and the pup comfortable. If Dick is lost to the tides, the alpha is a wreckage on the bluff. The chair is big enough for both soon to be parents.

Jason’s warmth is ever present and grounding.

The massive fingers that trail down Helena’s face makes her look so tiny. Like a delicate little thing that could be broken by too fast a movement. Not that Jason has the capacity to be anything but gentle. His heart bleeds for people. It bleeds out until the entirety of Gotham is red with his protection.

It takes both of them together to get Helena to Dick’s leaking breast. The pup whines as she struggles to get the nipple in her mouth. She’s more familiar with the bottle they had told him. That it would take time but eventually she would suckle. There’s no inhale or exhale as the pup attempts to nurse.

Then like magic she latches.

The tears refuse to be held back. Dick’s heart alarmingly full as Helena feeds forcefully but eagerly. The moment she gets a mouth full she’s quick to take more. Her hungry little mouth makes loud sounds and she feeds. Jason purrs in encouragement. His hand lightly tickles her wispy black curls.

She’s perfect. She’s perfect wonderful and Dick won’t know what to do if they can’t take her home today.

Luckily they don’t have to find out. Both breast get equal attention as the infant switches from one to another. It’s so natural and easy Dick doesn’t know why he had let himself worry to begin with. They pass with flying colors. After the feeding and burping both he and Jason get a neat stack of forms that require their signatures.

Then she’s free to leave with them.

Jason holds Helena as Dick takes his turn to sign. The alpha looks so at ease with their baby girl in his arms. His muscular frame dwarfing her’s. Dick hopes that the pup knows there is no place safer than in her father’s arms. Even if she seems grumpy as he harrasses her in her drowsy state.

Dick has to steal her back when the alpha kisses her nose, drawing a very upset puppy whine from her still developing vocal chords. Jason is absolutely heartbroken to let her go. At some point when Leslie goes to process the paperwork they get to be alone with their daughter.

Helena Mary Grayson-Todd.

Jason takes to sating his instincts by smothering Dick instead of their very sleepy pup.

“She’s so beautiful. “He murmurs, voice low enough not to set her off again. The thickness of the words would be impossible not to recognize. Though he’s doing a good job holding it together, Dick can tell the alpha is close to tears. The gravity of the situation finally sinks in.

“ You were perfect Dickie. “

The nickname melts down his spine, deep and warm like something butter. Typically that tone would make his eyes flutter shut. His body going loose and lax against his mate. Not now however. Now while his eyes are so busy trying to memorize everything about their pup.

The process had been grueling. They had to get Jason legal, find a reputable company, pick a donor, try on each of her ovulations, suffer when it didn’t take, then try again, then the paper work, the fees, the complications, the waiting- Oh God the waiting.

It had been the worst, most agonizing part. Right after the premature birth, and watching their little one breathe in a little shallow tank, kept warm by heat lamps.

How Dick wishes he could have just taken her home that very first day.

Not that it matters anymore. Not when she’s theirs now. Not when she get’s to come home today and be put in their nest where she belongs. Right in-between her two parents.

God Dick doesn’t know how he’ll manage to share her. The perfect pup in his arms is just so wonderful. It’s been such a long agonizing journey, he barely wants to hand her over to her sire.

He laughs, wetly, trying not to wake Helena from her nap.

“ If I can’t share you with Daddy how will I give you to your aunties and uncles huh? “

Jason’s laugh is close to his ear, sweet and silent to the point where it barely breathes. The soft sound makes his toes curl in his shoes. The searing comfort of love and happiness runs through his body as happy chills.

It’s something to get familiar with. The quiet laugh of a father trying not to wake their pup.

He looks at those watery blue-green eyes and Dick is falling in love all over again.

God who knew they could end up here? The two of them- finally starting a family together. That they could walk away from a life of pain and agony, to gift themselves something so beautiful.

For the first time in months, giving up the moniker doesn’t feel so suffocating.

When Jason laces their fingers together over their pup he knows his husband, his mate, the half of his heart agrees.

All while the new half lays in their arms, peaceful, healthy and forever loved.

[rainydayfiction]

Chicken Soup and Window Locks

Tim Drake x Reader

Finally getting around to posting some of the requests ; 0 ; I’m sorry they’re taking so long; I’ve been really busy with school since I got back.

Requested by: @ashleycorreenwilliams

Tim Drake x reader where Person A gets sick and doesn’t answer the phone, so Person B breaks into their house.

Word Count: 1572

Warnings: none

You get sick and drop off the grid for a few days as a result. Your boyfriend panics a little, but at least he brought you food.

Sinus infections were the absolute worst. Your nose couldn’t decide if it would rather be congested and suffocating you, or drippy and drowning you in your own mucus. You were coughing as a result of all the crud draining down your throat, and your traitor of a nose prevented you from tasting much of anything that wasn’t snot, so your appetite was nonexistent and you were starving. To put it simply, you would rather have been dead. Your itinerary for the past three days had consisted almost entirely of sleeping, broken occasionally by trips to the bathroom for borderline-boiling showers and the usual business, half-assed attempts at making and consuming anything that wasn’t juice or cold medicine, and sluggish netflix sessions when sleep wasn’t possible. It was all a tremendous drag, if you were being completely honest.

Naturally, your poor health had lead to the untimely demise of your social life: everyone was busy, at work, at school, or just not awake in the odd hours that you were. And even if they weren’t, your motivation to do anything other than muddle through the unpleasant haze your waking hours had turned into was almost non-existent. In other words, socializing was either inconvenient, or too much work. You could count the times you’d checked your phone on one hand, including to talk to your boyfriend, which you would soon learn was a mistake on your part.

You were finally comatose after a grueling session of ‘You Can’t Breathe and Therefore Sleeping Is Not an Option’ when noise outside your bedroom door alerted you that you weren’t alone in your apartment anymore. At first you thought it was just your imagination—your tired brain was making you hear things. But when you listened closer, you were certain. There were definitely voices in your apartment. Suddenly at least a little more alert, you sat up and looked around for anything that might prove useful in the current situation.

Across the room, one of your heavy textbooks sat on your desk. That was about the only thing you could think of that would make a semi-sufficient weapon. Great. You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand, ready to call the cops or your boyfriend should the need arise before sneaking to grab the textbook.

As quietly as possible, you open your bedroom door and slip out into the hallway, creeping across the floor with the book raised slightly. Now that you’re closer, you can pick out two separate voices, and your stomach churns uneasily. You’re halfway through cursing your luck and dialing Tim’s number when one of the voices swears loudly, and you pause. Your brain’s still a little foggy, but you could’ve sworn you knew that voice. A little less cautious now, you pad out of the hallway to survey the scene in front of you.

Sitting on the floor of your living room is Jason Todd, your boyfriend’s surly older brother. Dick Grayson, the eldest and arguably much better-tempered brother stands behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Jason has a screwdriver in his grasp, and various tools scattered next to him, bickering with Dick about the problem at hand. At this moment, you realize that said problem happens to be your window. Which is currently disassembled and spread across your carpet.

“What the hell?”

Both men look up at you in surprise. For a moment that’s almost comical, the three of you take turns glancing at each other wordlessly before you open your mouth again.

“Why are you in my apartment…? And why is my window on the floor...?”

Dick chuckles awkwardly, one hand finding its way into his hair in a nervous gesture while the other rests on his hip.

“Well, you see, this is all actually very funny. Tim—“

“You didn’t answer your phone for a few days and the replacement thought you were dead.” Jason interjects to summarize, eyes and screwdriver focused on the piece of your window frame again. “He broke the lock on your window trying to get in and called Dick after he couldn’t fix it and panicked.”

You raise a brow skeptically at him, lowering the textbook to rest at your side. “Then why are you here?”

“I didn’t know how to fix it either.” Dick admits bluntly.

“Where’s Tim?”

Before Dick can answer, the boy in question walks in the door, pausing when he spots you. There’s a plastic bag emblazoned with the logo of the diner from down the street in his hand.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“You broke my window.”

Tim shifts nervously before he approaches you carefully. He holds up the bag a little more, as if to placate you with the promise of food. “Yeah, I did. But uh—I brought you some soup from—“

“You broke my window.”

“On accident—“

“Tim, you have a key.”

“I was in a hurry! And, uh… in costume.”

Jason decides now is a good time to pipe up from his seat once again. “He could’ve broken the door instead of the window, you know.”

You turn to give the man a half-hearted scowl at this comment. However, your attention is diverted soon enough by the gentle weight of Tim’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Sorry, (Y/n)... I panicked.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your boyfriend seems awfully keen on preventing you from doing that, as he immediately puts his hand over your forehead and starts checking you over.

“How do you feel? You’re not feverish. When was the last time you took medicine?”

You suddenly find yourself swept onto the couch, Tim still bombarding you with questions while he pulls the blanket off of the back of the furniture to drape over your shoulders. The cushion dips as your boyfriend sits next to you, going through the bag of food now sitting on the coffee table. You don’t comment or complain: all of the sudden excitement has you feeling pretty groggy again.

“For Christ’s sake, kid, let her breathe. She doesn’t look too good, and you’re smothering her.”

Wow, you didn’t want to glare at Jason this time around. Dick stretches before walking over to the coffee table in front of you, plucking the bag away from Tim and picking through it before he finds what you assume was ordered for him. He hands Jason his food as well before he settles into your armchair. Something warm is pressed into your hands, and you look down to find Tim wrapping your fingers around a to-go cup of what appears to be chicken noodle soup. Right, he said he got you soup.

“Here,” he urges, “Once I realized you were just sick, I figured you probably hadn’t eaten much. And you know I don’t exactly cook often…”

You have to snort at that; the last time Tim attempted cooking something unsupervised, the entire apartment building had ended up in the parking lot, waiting for the automatic sprinklers and fire alarms to shut off. Tim looks relieved that you’re laughing, even if it’s at his expense. He assumes it means you’re not too upset about the window.

“Thanks,” you croak, lifting your spoon to start eating. Surprisingly enough, you can taste at least a little bit more than you have for the past few days, so you’re content enough to continue consuming the warm, soothing liquid.

Dick and Jason have both finished their food and are once again bickering back and forth. Setting down your now empty cup of soup, you lean into Tim’s side, sighing when he shifts to put his arm around you.

“I’m still mad at you about the window, you know.” You mumble, and you feel the guilty party flinch slightly.

“Yeah, I figured… I really am sorry, (Y/n)...”

You huff again, turning your face against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. His nimble fingers thread their way through your hair to comb gently through the messy strands in the way he knows will appease you. Damn him.

“You’re just lucky you’re cute… and warm…” you grunt and wrap an arm around his waist, practically climbing into his lap with how clingy you suddenly are. It’s not like you can help it; he really is warm, and now that your stomach is full for the first time in what feels like ages, you’re ready to pass out again. Luckily, Tim seems to figure out what you want and moves to lie down on the couch, pulling you over top of him and tugging the blanket up to your shoulders. You don’t hesitate to snuggle into him again, and a quiet chuckle meets your ears.

“Think you can hold off on being mad until you feel better?”

“Don’t push your luck, Drake. And pet my hair again, while you’re at it.”

Tim laughs a bit louder this time, but does what you’ve asked him to. You hear Jason and Dick both make snarky comments about you and your boyfriend’s current positions, but you’re too comfortable and sleepy to really mind. You still feel horrendous, and your boyfriend broke into your apartment just because you didn’t respond to a few text messages. But Tim’s heartbeat against your cheek is soothing, and this is the most comfortable you’ve been in days. As you start to drift off to sleep, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, and you decide that maybe you can postpone being upset with him. If only just this once.

[kindaangelic]

Bruce Wayne - Proud Father of College Graduates

"Bruce, I'm going back to college," Dick announced nonchalantly one night after a grueling patrol. Bruce jumped out of the BatChair and threw his arms into the air in jubilation. "Yes! My eldest isn't going to be a drop-out anymore! I won't have to be ashamed at the galas anymore!" Beside him, Tim, who was graduating college early with a double major in economics and engineering, glared at their father. "I've been accepted at Gotham University-" "Yes!" Bruce cried, pumping his fist. "-and I want to study journalism!" "Nooooooo!" Seeing Dick's distress mounting at Bruce's reaction, Damian raced forward and kicked Bruce in the shins. "Father, you're upsetting Grayson! I won't stand for it! Be proud of him!" Bruce proceeded to tell Damian that he was grounded, (Dick countered that order), and looked weepily at Dick. "Why journalism? Why didn't you come and speak to me? I would have helped you pick a major!" "Well, I was talking to Clark the other day-" "AUGH!" "Father, listen! Panic later!" "-and we've been speaking about this for a while, really. He really got me thinking, and after I did my own work, I thought that I'd be a good fit for this job. Besides, I'd have intel into the goings on in the city. Bruce, stop moaning!" Dick said angrily, shaking his father gently by the shoulders. "Think of it this way, B," Dick said placatingly, "I'll be moving back home." "Father, don't ruin this for us," Damian hissed at Bruce. "We'll get Grayson back home! No more crummy Blüdhaven!" Bruce perked up hearing this. "I'm going to send Clark flowers and those disgusting milk chocolates from Walmart that he likes," he said determinedly, embracing Dick. Damian nudged himself between the two men to envelope himself in Dick's warmth, and gradually butted Bruce out, squigglling into Dick's arms himself. "Bruce, you don't have to send Clark flowers. I've taken care of that," Dick said shyly. Tim raised his eyebrow. "Are we going to marry into the same family? It's going to be like some weird Utah reality show." Bruce chose that moment to faint, while Damian decried the concept of marriage and insisted that Dick would be much better served by remaining at home. ---------- The next morning, Bruce was rudely awakened by Jason flipping a sheaf of papers at his face. "Sign these," he demanded, crawling onto Bruce's bed to force a pen into his hands. Bruce groggily registered that his hand was being forced, and looked down to see what he was signing. A formal declaration for the adult adoption of one Mason Podd Wayne lay across his lap, and caused happy tears to trickle down Bruce's cheeks. "You've finally decided to come home again!" Bruce exclaimed happily. "Don't get too excited, old spice," Jason replied. "Gotham University needs proof of identification to enroll students, and since Jason Todd was legally dead, Mason Podd is their next student." "You're going to college!" Bruce wept happily, pulling Jason into a strangling hug. Sensing heightened emotions and hugging, Dick came charging into the bedroom and flung himself on top of Jason. "Ugh, get off, Goldie," Jason grumbled. "And yes, I'm enrolling in college." "I'll set up an office for you when you graduate! We can rename the company to be Wayne and Sons! Or Wayne, Wayne, and Wayne!" Bruce said giddily. "Tim can be head R&D and Finance, and you can head-" "Whoa, why would I need an office?" Jason asked confusedly. "I'm not going to study business." "Then what are you going to do?" Bruce asked, dread churning in his gut. "I'm majoring in Literature!" After a moment of pin drop silence, Bruce began to sob, while Jason collected the forms for his new identity and walked out of the room, Dick still clinging happily to his back. ----------- "Bruce, you have so many children," Mrs. Snooty-rich-moneybags commented airily. "Which one is this?" "This is Tim, my favorite." "Bruce!" "Father!" "Really, Master Bruce." Tim stood to the side, smiling like the cat that has finally got the cream. --------- ***Several years later...*** "Father, I have applied to several universities-" "Damian, you're sixteen," Bruce sighed. "-and I have been accepted into all of the-OOF!" Damian was cut off as his face was smushed into Dick's chest in a ferocious hug. "My smart cookie! My clever, little, jellybean!" "Yes, thank you, Grayson. As I was saying, I've been accepted into all of them. I have chosen to study-Father, take your blood pressure pills, you look like you're going to combust," Damian said worriedly. After Bruce had popped a few pills and his face had returned to a more human shade, Damian continued. "I have chosen to pursue a double major in pre-law-" "YES!" "-and visual arts." Bruce sagged into the BatChair and sobbed brokenedly as Dick crowed about how happy he was that Damian was following his heart. "Yes, I was speaking to Kent, and he encouraged me to make sure that I did what my heart was truly set on. I like justice and I like art, so it made sense to pursue both. I really must thank him, he's been a wonderful influence. Good job on trapping him in the bonds of matrimony, Grayson." Bruce sprung out of his chair to go and holler at Clark for corrupting two of his sons, while Damian was left to suffer Dick's tender mercies.

[edicoescn]

Gonçalo F Cardoso ~ Impressões de uma Ilha (Unguja) (Edições CN)

“Who wouldn’t want to live in a beach hut on a remote island?! For a month, Gonçalo F Cardoso did just that; except, instead of returning with a postcard, he returned with a soundscape. As a surreal collage of location recordings, Impressões de uma Ilha (Unguja) portrays an idyllic Unguja beach community in the Zanzibar archipelago. All throughout, the community buzzes with activity: fishermen chatter after a long day at sea, crabs scuttle across the beach, children play freely, radios careen between stations, and, eventually, when the sun sets, flutes serenade fields of crickets. Impressões de uma Ilha (Unguja) is a tale of the tide, rising, then falling, then rising again, suggesting the passage of time in a place that we can only dream about. Even a trip to Zanzibar wouldn’t sound like this.”  (Todd B. Gruel)

[thenewobjective]

David Vélez ~ The Things That Objects Can Teach Us About Ourselves

David Vélez ~ The Things That Objects Can Teach Us About Ourselves

Some people seek comfort in music. Others seek questions. Traveling far beyond the sofa, sound artist David Vélez probes the unresolved. If to extend oneself requires risk, listening to his compositions requires leaning into space, surrendering to a balance that is felt and yet unseen. When not leading projects such as Impulsive Habitat, Vélezwanders his homeland of Columbia and abroad,…

[thenewobjective]

Birds of Passage ~ The Death of Our Invention

Birds of Passage ~ The Death of Our Invention

Alicia Merz cultivates wilderness within vulnerability. The New Zealand singer-songwriter known as Birds of Passage creates faded folk frayed by silvery drones, attic songs whispered while one’s parents quarrel downstairs. But The Death of Our Invention doesn’t sag with what’s stagnant; it soars with what’s sore. By the time her words are sung, all pain has been tamed, blooming like wildflowers…

[thenewobjective]

Yann Novak ~ The Future is a Forward Escape Into the Past

Yann Novak ~ The Future is a Forward Escape Into the Past

The Future is a Forward Escape Into the Past vibrates ever so slowly, dilating like a time-traveler’s portal. Listeners reaching deep into the crackling speakers will watch one’s body dissolve into sound waves, emerging in a universe resembling our own, in every way, except for one small point: It’s devoid of humanity. Neither a Star Gate episode, nor an astrophysics thesis, Yann Novak’s…

[thenewobjective]

CC ~ AM

Haunted by what never was—and yet will always be—AM gathers ghostly sounds from radios commonly used in Cold War espionage. Copy or not, CC plays crackerjack sleuth to perfection. Across 30 short tracks, armed with antenna for magnifying glass, the gumshoe probes memories displaced by culture’s progress. AM is an audio-visual project by Michael C Coldwell, aka CC, a sound artist from Leeds, UK.…

[thenewobjective]

Patkus ~ Alyosha

For those caught in thunderstorms without a coat, science suggests that one weighs more when soaked through with rain. And yet, what if the same tears from bruised clouds could bridge body and spirit? In a flash baptism by blizzard, would that not leave one lighter—at least in spirit—raised by sudden revelation? With clothes clinging like rags to ragged bones, the private quickly turns public.…

[thenewobjective]

Slow Heart Music ~ This Body Is Not Me

Slow Heart Music ~ This Body Is Not Me

When was the last time we moseyed through a dream without a worry—when not bushy-tailed prey dodging Id-fanged phantoms stomping, snorting, nipping at our heels—or drifted through a dream without a fancy—when not some hungry hunter foraging for elixirs (sweet Ego mirages) for all the day’s malaise? Slow Heart Music’s debut album, This Body Is Not Me, submits a soundtrack for day dreamers neither…

[thenewobjective]

Yannick Dauby ~ Wā Jiè Méng Xūn

Yannick Dauby ~ Wā Jiè Méng Xūn

What’s Amphibia Anura to some, is Salientia to others.  If the taxonomy sounds obscure, perhaps their common call may help: “ribbet, ribbet” (or “kreck-ek, kreck-ek,” depending on one’s field guide).  Herpetologists rejoice, sound artist Yannick Dauby’s frog-centric album, Wā Jiè Méng Xūn, has found a re-release online.  Noting a deep need to commune with lifeforms other than one’s own, Dauby…

[thenewobjective]

Noon ~ Disquiet

America, you are fat, famished, and fleeting.  Now gloating, now moaning your cabinet shift—Earth’s mantle rumbling four letter words—are we consumed by an age of terror apprised of its errors?  Or are we gasping for air earned in appraisal of its heir urns?  Not waiting for an answer, Noon loiters thick with mustard gas in shallow trenches.  As if Jimmy Hendrix were backed by a sweaty band of…

[thenewobjective]

Dan Joseph's Electroacoustic Works: Birdwatching in Levi's with John Cage

Dan Joseph’s Electroacoustic Works: Birdwatching in Levi’s with John Cage

Cover art for Electroacoustic Works. Photo credit: Dan Joseph. Who’s Afraid of Electroacoustic Music? prevails as the industry response to electronic-oriented works within the classical music world. When used as a tool by the daily consumer, technology stands unquestioned; but when used as a compositional method by the daring composer, straying wide of what occurs merely on the page—ruled solely…

[thenewobjective]

Nickolas Mohanna ~ Chroma

Nickolas Mohanna ~ Chroma

Chroma, the latest sound art oddity from Nickolas Mohanna, dilates from the smallest pinprick: a sustained piano chord, ground into digital plaster, looms into view. The notes quiver in place, floating aloof beside a 60hz hum, chopped and looped with a deft surgeon’s hand. Forecasting a surge, a wavering wah-wah line sweeps across channels, minced into flurries, sparring with wet, hollow…