January 2021 Newsletter

Click here to download a printable PDF version.

There is no must in art because art is free.
~ Wassily Kandinsky

Winter Watercolors with Gayle Dowling

Our holiday Zoom class with Gayle filled to capacity and was great fun! We’re offering another class this month—spread over two sessions by popular demand, January 23rd and 30th. The cost for two 90-minute classes is $15 total for members and $20 for non-members. Visit the Winter Art page for more information. The deadline to register is Thursday, January 21st.

Next WAC Adventure: Desert X!



Desert X is a biannual, outdoor contemporary art exhibition framed by the mountains and desert of the Coachella Valley. These site-specific artworks range from murals and projections to large-scale sculptures and virtual installations. And they take on big themes like fossil fuel use, rising sea levels, and class divides. The Wrightwood Arts Center will host an Arts Adventure “Caravan” to see a number of the Desert X art installations. Cost is $35 for WAC members and $40 for non-members, with a boxed lunch included. For more information and to register, visit our Adventures page.

Snowline Players’ Christmas with Santa

Review by Josephina Green

⁡⁡⁡⁡⁡⁡⁡⁡On December 20th, the Snowline Players streamed an online performance live on YouTube to celebrate the holidays. The show was titled “Christmas with Santa,” featuring many local actors and musicians, and I found the performance quite enjoyable. Although there may be a worldwide pandemic going on, and the performers were not able to perform with a visible audience, watching this digital show proves that even in lockdown, holiday magic can still be possible. I found the performances to be not just entertaining but also highly inspirational.

In this production, there were many highlights that made the whole thing very exciting. At one point, Santa even joined the meeting. Viewers asked him questions in the chat window, such as what is his favorite type of cookie, and he read some letters that he had received from kids this year. You could tell from the excitement in the comments that Santa played a crucial role in the broadcast.

The musical performers in this show were very talented. I enjoyed listening to their voices and their stories very much. Just like in every concert or musical, the singing really makes the show come to life. In this show there were no bright lights or backstage secrets, as there are in most performances. Just a bunch of people singing. It really brightens your holiday.

The hosts were Cheryl Buckle and David Beach, who ran the show very smoothly like professionals. The Snowline Players sang and made jokes, and it made me feel very happy and well-entertained when I finished watching it. The performers are like professionals, too, and I was very impressed with the whole production.

So if you’re looking for a way to lift your spirits as the holiday season winds down, this show is sure to leave you feeling cheery and appreciative of the holidays. This free to the public show aired on YouTube and can be viewed any time here.

 
Josephina Green is a student at Wrightwood Elementary School.

WAC Internship

The application deadline for Wrightwood Arts Center’s first annual internship is fast approaching! This is an opportunity for local high school or college students to gain valuable experience in event organization, writing, and marketing, while helping to promote the arts in our community. With guidance from our staff, interns will help plan for the Wrightwood Arts Festival and cover local events for our newsletters. In addition to looking great on a college application or resume, it will be a chance to learn new skills and make contacts throughout the regional arts community. The timing and amount of participation is flexible.

The application deadline is January 15th. For more information and to apply, visit our internship page, where you’ll find a PDF application form, including a few short essay questions.

Poem of the Month

Lana Hechtman Ayers

TWENTY TWENTY

This was the year breath became death.
The year the grandparents and great grandparents left us by the thousands, taking their wisdom with them into the great oxygen mask of the heavens. This was the year we covered our mouths and smiled with our eyes if we were able to smile at all.
This year handshakes became passé and hugs a mass hallucination we once had.
This was the year we transformed into a tribe of screens.
The year we finally acknowledged how crucial delivery drivers and supermarket stock clerks are. First responders heroes now more than ever.
This was the year we remembered how to bake bread, learned how to garden.
The year we discovered different species of trees possess distinctive aromas.
This was the year we binge watched and wore out pajamas.
The year we took our pens up and our notebooks seriously.
The year we were speechless.
This was the year we discovered the Zen of handwashing, observed all the delicate shadows the moon tats across night lawns.
This was the year we cancelled weddings, Christmas, died without anyone familiar by our sides.
But this was also the year we took unscheduled strolls in the forest alone, attended the sea’s susurrus lectures, hiked higher than ever before.
The year we feared air and loved air and drove less, thus clearing the air. This was the year we did more fretting, more regretting.
We vowed to vote and kept our promises to ourselves and others.
This was the year we stood up to racial injustice in the myriad ways we could—in the streets, on Facebook, writing to our senators, calling for action against the police, donating to causes, celebrating artists of color, holding our white tongues so the underrepresented could be heard, acknowledged, admired.
This was the year we used our phones to make actual calls, voice to voice, not just for texts and emojis.
The year we cried and shook our heads and wrung our hands at the headlines.
This was the year we lost sleep, lost heart, found hope is action.
This is the year we said I love you over and over.
Sometimes to the person on the other side of the glass.
Sometimes to songbirds.
Sometimes to ourselves.
The year we said I love you to our fragile Earth.
Said I love you, I love you to the universe, and I love my humble place in it, no matter what.

from Rattle’s Poets Respond

 
Lana Hechtman Ayers was born in New York and lives in the Pacific Northwest. A poet, novelist, publisher, and time travel enthusiast, she facilitates Write Away™ generative writing workshops, leads private salons for book groups, and teaches at writers’ conferences. For more information, visit her website.

 

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