This Monday, we will learn about objects and movies. Sue and Anne will start off the lesson with a discussion about movies as objects – how movies themselves may have numerous objects within them, but they also function on their own as objects as well.  So much of what movies are composed of is heavily influenced by the creators of the movie who decide the purpose, intent, and more. Movies can be objects used for entertainment, as well as manipulation and propaganda, as well as economic advancement!

Then, we will flip the switch, and move on to discuss on how objects themselves are used within a movie to imply (as in a movie poster) its genre. We’ll ask a question to get our brains thinking: when we think of the two movie genres of romance and horror, what objects come to mind? What objects are usually shown in a “RomCom” or scary movie? What emotions are evoked by such objects, and why do you think movie makers incorporate them into the movies? We will write all of these objects on the white board, and follow this activity up with materialized evidence of our findings through a study of objects commonly shown in real movie posters for these genres. Genres largely have to do with the emotions an audience is meant to feel while watching a film, and a study of the objects within horror and romance film posters will evoke how objects can be inextricably tied in with the emotions of fear and love.

We will proceed to focus even more closely upon how just one object can not only imply a movie’s genre, but the entire movie legacy itself! We have a game to play called Famous Objects from Classic Movies, during which an object will be shown, and we will have to guess which movie it is from. We will then focus on a few objects, such as:

• The Leg Lamp (A Christmas Story)
• Wilson (Castaway)
• The Plastic Bag (American Beauty)
• McLovin ID (Superbad)
• Guy Fawkes Mask (V for Vendetta)
• Rose (Beauty and the Beast)

What do these objects mean – are they iconic? Are they timeless? How do they contribute to these films and their respective legacies and followings? What memories, emotions, scenarios, and thoughts are evoked by looking at these objects, and do they directly correlate with each movie’s legacy? Are these objects quite possibly what can make a movie timeless and recognizable across generations?

In short, do these objects help immortalize the film? If so, it is confirmed that some of the film industry is indebted to objects. Be sure to keep in mind the intent of the director. Does this affect the significance and meaning placed upon the objects of movies?

In the second half of our lesson, we will present a movie director that is famous for his utilization of materials within his movies: Wes Anderson. To illustrate Anderson’s style, we’ll show a short spoofy clip that filters Star Wars through an Anderson lens. The style of the Star Wars movies is very well-known; through presenting an Anderson Star Wars, we will dip our toes into his emphasis on objects and how he uses them to make his movies. We will then watch clips of Moonrise Kingdom (2012) and The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) and ask the class how Anderson is using objects to explicate themes and define characters.

Annotated Bibliography

http://www.jstor.org/stable/426684?&Search=yes&searchText=%22The+Art+of+the+Movies+in+American+Life%22&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3D%2522The%2BArt%2Bof%2Bthe%2BMovies%2Bin%2BAmerican%2BLife%2522%26Search%3DSearch%26gw%3Djtx%26prq%3DThe%2BArt%2Bof%2Bthe%2BMovies%2Bin%2BAmerican%2BLife%26hp%3D25%26acc%3Don%26aori%3Da%26wc%3Don%26fc%3Doff&prevSearch=&item=1&ttl=6&returnArticleService=showFullText

Sorry for the long link – if it does not work, go onto the STL website, click Databases by Title, go to JSTOR and type in “The Art of the Movies in American Life”

           This article published in The Journal of Aesthetics and Criticism presents movies to us as artworks. Fox gives us insight on the purpose and various ways people make use of films. The article also compares movies with art and it explains why movies are so popular to everyday citizens.

https://twitter.com/WordsOfWes

Unfortunately, Wes Anderson does not have a Twitter account, but this clever page has successfully merged all of his witty movie quotes into one twitter account that illustrates his pithy style that can go hand-in-hand with the creative ways in which he utilizes objects.

http://rushmoreacademy.com/

“The World of Wes Anderson”: an entire website devoted to the study of Wes Anderson. in which visitors can find screenplays, reviews, a radio station dedicated to playing Anderson soundtrack songs, blog posts on the filmmaker, and more.

Cinephilia : Movies, Love and Memory edited by Marijke de Valck and Malte Hagener

Pages 163-166 of this book, accessible through the STL Ebrary, contain an essay entitled “Melancholy Objects, Out of Place” that concentrates on the way in which Anderson applies his characteristic style of arranging objects to his film plots and character development.

For my final paper, I am going to write a chapter for my novel, Lucid: I’m Wide Awake, centered around the notion that objects carry a potential to fully consume human beings. I will provide a quick brief on Lucid and its characters that is relevant to this assignment so that the sample can be understood.

This chapter is centered around my protagonist’s twin brother, Darius. Josephine, the main character of the Lucid trilogy, is a nineteen year old female that is, at this stage in the arc, at the very rock bottom of her character development. It is Saturday morning, and Josephine is supposed to be watching her Darius while her mother is at work. Darius is severely affected by autism. In the moment below, Josephine is currently out getting cigarettes and has left Darius alone in the house and to his own devices. He has just woken up and soon becomes very overwhelmed by a glitch in his massive collection of New York City Memorabilia. Autistic individuals are often prone to developing obsessive behavior around movies, music, place, and, in this case, a very specific type of memorabilia that is often repetitive (how many Statue of Liberty figurines have we all seen?), and actually serves as a soother to Darius’ anxiety when he knows his collection is dusted, counted, and in order.

Here is a sample of the chapter. Enjoy!

IV

          Fifty. Darius ripped his covers off the bed, feeling his bladder twitch inside his pelvis. Fifty. He had just finished counting his collection of New York City Memorabilia, and could now allow himself to take his morning pee. He could finally let himself get out of bed, and let his toes crunch against his polyester rug that had turned his bedroom floor into a giant map of the New York City Subway System. Ashley had found the rug on the MTA website, on sale just before Christmas, and thought it was a perfect fit for Darius’ room. It was a new rug, fresh and clean and stiff against Darius’ feet. He stood up, his long bones popping in response to movement after his brief, hour-or-so rest.

           There Darius stood, starting his daily routine of taking in his surroundings and putting the pieces together. He saw the sun shining, so thus, it had to be daytime. Usually, during daytime, he was at Hoboken High School without Mommy or Josie. He spent his days in a contained classroom, with other boys his age (Chris, Lee, Joel, Rohit, Ivan) and one girl (Stephanie) that were like him. He attached minimal significance to these other kids, possessing no desire to become friends with his peers or even associate with them in any way. All he knew was that Chris brought in salad for lunch every day with very pungent, oniony dressing. Lee needed to pick up every stick he saw on the way to school and bring it into the classroom. Joel made loud noises in the bathroom that gave Darius a headache, and Rohit made no noise at all. Ivan wore diapers that stuck out of his pants. Stephanie would sing the songs from Annie every day during breakfast in the classroom, an activity during which his teenage classmates would be reminded how to hold and knife and fork, and she was sometimes so loud that Darius could smell her breath across the table. Her parents clearly did not take the time in the morning, as Ashley did, to make sure she brushed her teeth.

           But this daytime Darius did not see Chris or Lee or Joel or Rohit or Ivan or Stephanie. He had woke up in his bed, and was now standing on his new rug in his underwear. If he was not at Hoboken High School, that must mean it was what Mommy called a Fun Day: the weekend. He smiled wide, realizing that he did not have to go on the cold yellow bus or smell Stephanie’s breath over his freeze-dried eggs. This morning, he could have pancakes for breakfast, since it was a Fun Day. His stomach rumbled inside his sunken torso – he couldn’t wait for the sweet, syrup-covered morsels Mommy made so well.

          She had to be in the kitchen. Either Mommy was in the kitchen, or Josie was sitting at the countertop, reading a book and drinking some water. Darius yawned and blinked his eyes, smiling at these possibilities. If it was a really good day, Darius would see both Mommy and Josie in the kitchen. They would look up and smile, and Mommy would say, as always when Darius approached in his robe, “There’s my big man!” Darius didn’t know what this meant, but he knew that it always followed with a kiss and he would feel a warm feeling deep inside his chest. Yes, he could not wait for pancakes. He systematically walked over to his closet door and opened it up three quarters of the way, as he did every single time. He grabbed the blue robe that Mommy insisted he had to wear around the house, now that he was a Big Boy, and walking around the apartment in briefs was no longer acceptable.

          Darius slipped on his robe and started towards the door. Just then, he saw that one of his New York Rangers bobble-head figurines was out of place. His heart stopped, and he ran over to his bookshelf to straighten it out. A wave of anxiety ran over him. What if, he hadn’t counted his collection correctly? What if there was something missing? His bladder pulsated, full of the hot yellow liquid Darius knew had to be put into the toilet. But, his figurines. He straightened out Henrik Lundqvist, a New York Rangers player from a country called Sweden, born on March 2^nd, 1982, who catches in the left and makes $41,250,000 every six years. These statistics did not all make sense to Darius. He certainly knew that Henrik Lundqvist made a lot of money playing hockey – a lot more than the five $10 bills Darius would have to count during math lessons. $41,250,000 sure seemed a lot more than that. He would look up such information about each of his New York City objects on the internet, copying and pasting facts that stood out and putting them in a word document, to be printed out and duly hole-punched and placed into a giant binder that Mommy called his “log.”

R.I.P. Bille Brown

Actor, playwright, teacher, director, and beloved friend

(11 January 1952-13 January 2013)

Caption

Aladdin by Bille Brown can be found in the special collections of the SUNY New Paltz Sojourner Truth Library. It is in the form of a “working manuscript.” Donated to the collection from Brown himself, Aladdin epitomizes the college’s involvement with the fine and performing arts on not only a local, but also international, level.

Physical Description of the Object

The volume residing in the Sojourner Truth Special Collections contains two parts within a sturdy binding folder. The working manuscript of Aladdin is between approximately 83 pages. Its content is in the classic play format, with Brown’s actively handwritten notes in the margins. In addition to these annotations, one also sees Brown’s editing notes of Aladdin, such as certain lines and words being changed or switched or extended. The play, in this manuscript, even includes Pantomime stage directions for the actors, such as “ad lib till AUDIENCE reply sufficiently.” The volume also includes the 2004 Old Vic Christmas Issue detailing that year’s Classic Family Panto, which was, of course, Aladdin. In this publication there lies information and articles about the 2004 production of Aladdin at the Old Vic Theatre, containing direct quotes from Brown, Ian McKellan, and even an anecdote as to how Elton John became involved with the score of the production.

Dates of Creation/Provenance

The first page of Aladdin says it was written on November 19th, 2004. However, this date is scratched out by Brown and written over it are the words: “JANUARY PERFORMANCE DRAFT,” meaning that although the printed text was written in November, the play became a working manuscript and was edited into January of the next year for performance purposes. This leaves the play being nearly ten years old. Brown gave Aladdin to the special collections in the Sojourner Truth Library as a gift. Such an action indicates that Brown loved New Paltz enough to contribute not a polished, perfect version of Aladdin, but instead a working manuscript. To think that such an accomplished actor would feel comfortable enough to give us an intimate view into his creative process, shows how Brown must have felt that those in the New Paltz community would understand and appreciate his work.

Narrative

The version of Aladdin existing in New Paltz is a work-in-progress of a play, and the fact that SUNY New Paltz accepted the gift into its special library collections tells us that the college values the performing arts in all forms, from an edited-by-hand manuscript to a full-blown production. The object kicks this notion up a notch when one learns that Bille Brown is a respected actor and also an Australian, in fact an AM (Member of the Order of Australia). Brown came to be affiliated with New Paltz under unusual circumstances. The current Assistant to the Dean of Fine & Performing Arts, David Cavallaro, ran into him as an undergraduate theatre student at the college. Cavallaro told his acting instructor that his roommate had someone staying with him that stated he was a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company. Quite quickly, Brown was invited to speak to Cavallaro’s acting class. Soon enough, the former College President Alice Chandler granted Brown Artist-in-Residence at New Paltz.

Brown’s time at New Paltz in the 1980s proved to be quite fruitful. He acted and directed for a number of productions, such as The Fantastiks and The Philanthropist, and even launched the American premier of his own work, including the musical Almost a Joke and an RSC pantomime called The Swan Down Gloves. He is also the man that founded New Paltz’s London Theatre Seminar!

Aladdin is not just any play; it is a traditional English pantomime that was performed at the Old Vic in London in 2004-2005. Pantomimes, usually performed around Christmas time, are defined as “theatrical performances played in the language of action.” Pantomimes usually provide audiences a spin of old fairy tales. With heavy emphasis on audience participation, pantomimes border on the slapstick, valuing heightened bodily expression during the depiction of emotions, events, and dialogs. A line often proclaimed by the audience is the famous “Behind you, behind you!” in relation to some intermittent trouble approaching an actor without them noticing, leaving audiences with the fun obligation of telling the actor themselves.

Another facet of Brown’s editing notes that illustrate a desire to maintain the pantomime ritual is the addition of certain words and actions to increase audience participation, such as changing the line from “Are you having us on?” to “Are they having us on,” in relation to the audience. Soon after this alteration follows the line, “Oh yes they are! (Routine with Audience and DIM).”

Children are indeed welcomed to pantomimes as participants and audience members just as much as adults, thanks to the tradition of double-entendres throughout such productions. Shakespearean cross-dressing is also a trait of the pantomime play. Dominant lady-wives are often depicted by older men, and princely male characters are played by youthful women. Brown’s Aladdin is no exception to this tradition with its all-star cast, with Ian McKellan (yes!) playing Widow Twankey (Aladdin’s mother), and Dim Sum, a male Chinese character, being played by Maureen Lipman. One can see these names written in the margins of the working manuscript of Aladdin, alongside their respective characters.

As mentioned earlier, Brown hosted a pantomime production at New Paltz entitled The Swan Down Gloves, and having Aladdin in the Sojourner Truth Library special collection just further specifies the amount of theatrical variety the college has delved into. Not only are we familiar with musicals, student black box productions, and official main stage shows, but we also do pantomimes, in the tradition of a foreign country. What an assortment! And Aladdin is just scratching the surface, us a peek into just one of the many art forms New Paltz is associated with. New Paltz has the reputation of being an artsy-fartsy kind of school, but it is objects like Aladdin and people like Bille Brown that refute this trivializing label. New Paltz is not artsy-fartsy – it is a cultured and well-rounded institution.

References

Aubert, Charles. The Art of Pantomime. New York: Benjamin Blom, Inc., 1927. Print.

“In Memoriam.” Stagelight, The McKenna Productions Newsletter. Jan 2013: n. page. Web. 5 Apr. 2013.

And I just thought this was really cool: Brown’s handwritten ending to Aladdin, edited in silver pen. It states:

In a darkening world, do not give way to fear. Believe in laughter, believe in life, and true love will appear.

The tombstone of Rebekah McClang, a nineteenth century woman who died on May 3rd, 1862 at  the age of thirty, is a New Paltz community object with a story to tell. Little information has been found on Rebekah’s life, including why she died so young. There is but one detail that enlightens us: she was insane.

Rebekah’s tombstone lies in New Paltz, at the current Ulster County fairgrounds, where the former Ulster County Poorhouse was located. Upon entering the grounds, at the entrance with the red barns, one takes notice of a commemorative sculpture entitled “Rebekah,” by local artist Judy Sigunick. The sculpture is broken at the neck and chin area.

As one makes their way towards the back of the fairgrounds, Rebekah’s tombstone will come into view, surrounded by a white fence. It is large and made of heavy material. It is about 3 inches thick, and five feet tall. The surface is rough, cold, and one can feel the grooves of the earthy stone. The inscriptions upon the tombstone are very faint, one can decipher what is said, although it is really hard to do so. The usual date of birth and death is inscribed, as well as Rebekah’s mother’s and father’s names. There is also a poem on the tombstone entitled “Who’ll Weep for Me?” that addresses the age-old question of who will remember a person after they’ve passed. Who wrote the poem, or who decided it was properly suited for the tombstone, is unknown. Inside the white-fenced area, along with the tombstone, is a plaque with the transcribed poem, as follows:

Who’ll weep for me?

Wher’ neath the cold damp earth I lay,

And sleep in quiet day by day,

And have no more on earth to say.

Who’ll weep for me?

When I am sleeping in the tomb,

And o’er my head fair flowers bloom,

Or midnight’s showers in her gloom.

Who’ll weep for me?

Yes others too will weep for me,

As here I sleep beneath this tree,

That waves its branches over me.

They too will weep for me

My mother dear – I know she’ll weep,

And father too while here I sleep,

My brothers and my sisters dear,

Will weep for me while I lay here.

The tombstone belongs to Rebekah, however there is no way of knowing precisely who set up the tombstone in terms of design and content. The person who did do this cared enough to place a poem upon it — most likely Rebekah’s parents. According to the 1849 Admissions Book for the Ulster County Poorhouse, Rebekah was admitted for one, singular cause: “insanity” (Stessin-Cohn 1).

So, what is the dreaded poor house? It is precisely how societies in the past have dealt with the underprivileged. The underprivileged, in nineteenth century Ulster county society, were the poor and the insane. It is a pre-millennial government program (like welfare, food stamps, and the like) that attempted to place the underprivileged into society in ways that would benefit them. However, the Poorhouse has been remembered differently. “Conditions in these institutions were often deliberately harsh, so only the truly desperate would apply,” states Carlton Martz in the 1998 issue of the Bill of Rights in Action (Wasserman 1).

By June 1828, a poorhouse was established in New Paltz, in the same area where the Ulster County Fairgrounds now reside. An 1824 law, stating that a county poor house will be constructed, goes into detail about what sort of individuals were expected in the county poorhouse, listing paupers, begging children, disorderly persons, and other “such persons in such indigent circumstances as to require relief,” as expected residents (“Law Establishing County Poorhouses in New York”). According to an 1852 Ulster County Poorhouse admissions record, individuals were admitted based upon their “dependence.” Reasons for dependency were as diverse as the case of an Irish girl named Mary Holland, aged twenty six, entered on the grounds of “prostitution,” to little Patrick, Mary, and William Molone, ages five, two, and under one, respectively, who are listed as entering the poorhouse because of  “debauched parents” (“Admissions – 1852”).

The County Board of Supervisors and the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas assembled to assign the position of Superintendent of the Poor in 1828. Twenty years later, this position became an elected one. A man in a county was able to hold the position for three years. The election must have been centered around some sort of ethical measuring of each prospective Superintendent. In other words, people in New Paltz had to have looked at this man and wondered: what will he do for the poor? Is he a good man?

In order to address such questions, inspections of the poor house were issued and published in the New Paltz Times throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This was a sort of way to address the issue and perhaps calm the spirits of those genuinely concerned about the well-being of those in the poorhouse. A report dating back to December 16th, 1869 analyzes the care of Superintendent Andrew Ketcham, stating,

“The main building was visited first, where everything was in complete order, bed linen clean, and each bedstead furnished with a good straw bed, and comfortable covering … At the colored house, everything was ‘all right,’ according to the language of the inmates. At the insane building, a pitiful site is presented; to look upon the poor maniacs, talking of everything, and yet of nothing, is a sad sight … But one of the attendants says ‘everything is done for their comfort, that can be.’ We would suggest as a comfortable improvement for this building, that it be heated by furnaces.”

Upon reading this review, citizens were expected to arrive at the conclusion that everything was fine and that the unfortunate were being properly taken care of. The very end of the review states,

“After inspecting the premises, the party returned to the residence of the Superintendent, where a sumptuous banquet was prepared, to which they did ample justice, after which cigars and refreshments were partaken of, and the gathering soon dispersed; the Supervisors starting for Kingston and the guests to their respective homes.”

The Ulster County Poorhouse is also, however, known to have been a very pitiful sight, evidenced in the writings of a journalist at the New Paltz Times that states that the poor house is:

“A DISGRACE – We do not believe there is a single county in this state, wherein the insane poor are as miserably cared for as in Ulster. The building in which these unfortunates are confined, is nothing more or less, than a “shanty” half-a-story high … Only a few months ago, a stranger having the small-pox, was taken to a “shanty” in the woods – there being no other place – and left to die.”

Rebekah’s tombstone, within its white fence at the Ulster County Fairgrounds, where the Poorhouse used to stand, is just one tombstone remaining at a burial ground believed to have contained 2,500 bodies of the unfortunate. Hers is the only tombstone left, among thousands lost. When Susan Stessin-Cohn, Director of Education at Historic Huguenot Street and Poorhouse Historian, discovered the tombstone, it was nearly falling through the dirt and would have otherwise disappeared had she not made sure a cement foundation was put into the ground. Exactly why Rebekah’s is the only tombstone still in existence at the site is unknown, yet this stunning artifact of the poor house epitomizes the extreme negligence Ulster County has given to the underprivileged in the past.

WORKS CITED

“1824 Law Establishing County Poorhouses in New York.” Passed 27 November 1824. Print.

“A Disgrace.” Snippet, New Paltz Times 6 December 1862. Print.

“Visit to the County Poorhouse.” New Paltz Times 16 December 1869. Print.

Stessin-Cohn, Susan. “Finding Rebekah.” Ulster County Poorhouse Project. Ulster County Information Services. 2004. Website. 15 March 2013.

—. “Admissions – 1852.” Ulster County Poorhouse Project. Ulster County Information Services, 1852/2004. Web. 17 April 2013.

Wasserman, Gabriel J. “Ulster poorhouse was grim refuge.” The Poughkeepsie Journal 16 November 2004. Print.

The very first thing I found interesting about the New Paltz Wikipedia page is the early development of the town. I always thought the dorm buildings at SUNY New Paltz had funny names, but I also always knew they had to mean something, particularly to the history of New Paltz. Upon reading the New Paltz Wikipedia pages,  I realized, once again in my life, that things are not just named to be named; names are almost always carefully selected to suit a thing in sometimes unexpected ways. When I moved on campus as a freshman, I saw the new dorm buildings called Lenape and Esopus as an option in which to love. They were freshly constructed and beautiful on the inside, but I ultimately decided against them because they were “way too far” – which was a hugely common opinion among my peers. Understandable: they are on the far surrounding areas of the campus rather than in the center. Thus, many students, including myself, chose to live in buildings closer to classes and ignored the brand-new dorm buildings built on the perimeter of the campus, despite all of their niceties. Since then, Lenape and Esopus have dropped out of my mental consciousness completely, until I read the history of New Paltz on Wikipedia and fully realized where the names for these dorm buildings came from. New Paltz was formed in 1678, and while Hugenot settlers were trying to expand the town perimeters, they “purchased a patent for the land surrounding present day New Paltz from a Lenape tribe known as the Esopus” – how funny! It all makes sense now. While someone was trying to figure out what to name the new dorms being built outside the center of the actual campus, they directly paralleled the experience to when, over a hundred years ago, the actual town of New Paltz was looking for surrounding areas to expand their boundaries. In the campus situation, the campus is the town, and the buildings of Lenape and Esopus are the surrounding lands acquired. I thought this correlation was funny and thoughtful, on whoever named the building’s part. It reveals a part of the history of New Paltz I never even thought existed nor even thought about at all. All I could say was, “how… funny.” It really inspired me to look into things more and not just brush off everything as something that is not intimate or carefully named.

The New Paltz history pages are pretty informative and interesting, however I was really looking forward to how the town garnered its whole “hippie culture” and rock n’ roll façade that is still used so effectively in marketing the town (i.e. The Groovy Blueberry, Rock da Pasta, etc). I was disappointed to see that this was left out of the history of the town, besides the various protests that went on in the history of the campus. Yet, this omission revealed something else to me. It reminded me of the changes I’ve seen in the New Paltz campus since I’ve been here four years ago. The school logo has been changed from an old historical portrait of Old Main to a sciencey, geometric (and ugly) abstraction. The newest school building besides the renovated Old Main is that grotesque pyramid, and I’ve also heard that the school has been trying desperately to promote its engineering, science, and business departments. Combined with the realization that cops have also always ruthlessly focused upon reducing drug use within New Paltz, this all makes me feel as if New Paltz is trying to banish its reputation as a “hippie school” – High Times magazine actually dubbed the school as the #7 “Counterculture College” in the United States. I have been suspecting this for years, and a look at the New Paltz history pages on Wikipedia has finally verified my idea! How fascinating.

http://hightimes.com/entertainment/ht_admin/3027

While searching for an object to date and chronicle the history of, I found this crumpled up play program of Lear’s Daughters. The front of the program lists the play’s title, director, dates, and a picture drawn by a New Paltz art student to fit the play. Many people who saw this program thought that the girl in the center of this picture was supposed to represent me. I did not know nor never met Jes Mackenzie, and I’m guessing she had never seen me either. The resemblance is just one funny coincidence that falls along the timeline of the assemblage of this object. There are a few other peculiarities that can be found through further describing the object.

It is fascinating that in describing this found object, I am also able to learn about its history:  its production, as well as the names of the people who helped produce it. The same cannot be said for many objects in this world, and I find this object not only fiercely existing as a memory in my life, but also a detailed chronicle of the amount of minds and efforts it took to bring the play, and even this program, into inception. Upon opening the program, one can see not only the cast and production crew, but also a list of six dramaturges that each contributed to this very detailed program. Lear’s Daughters was a collaborative production between New Paltz’s theatre and English departments. Needless to say, then, in-depth analyzation of the play was applied throughout its production, and is even inserted within the program itself. Upon opening the program all the way, one beholds seven mini-essays with a meticulous analysis of each character. These essays were provided by the hard work of the dramaturgy. Back to the front of the program, one can see the dates of the play on the 9th and 10th of April 2010. If anyone else had found this program, however, they would not have known it was printed two years ago; there is no year listed in the play’s production dates at the front of the program. I am so confident in my dating of this object because I was part of its production. I played the role of Cordelia in the play.

I find it very interesting how the year-to-date of the program was irrelevant in this pamphlet’s production, as if the year would not matter to audiences. Admittedly, it is a little redundant during a then-current event. Yet I find it interesting how so much hard work went into this object, and yet no one thought to date it. It is as if it was constructed and thought to function only on the dates of the play, frozen in that moment and then soon tossed away at the end of the entertainment. Even more stunningly, on the back of the program is a list of King Lear stories throughout time, with exact dates, and yet the Lear’s Daughters production dates at the front of the program are left incomplete.

I remember taking very many of these programs, so that I may remember being in my first play. Since then, ironically, I have completely forgotten about the folios and have no idea where they lie, except for this one crumpled escapee. I found it on the bottom of one of my suitcases. I guess at one point I felt it was essential to bring to a destination to which I also no longer remember traveling.

I’d like to start off by apologizing for the poor images, the camera on my phone is not the best.

I grew up in Long Island, a land of new-age house-clone developments and stuffy shopping malls. I struggled to keep up with every trend that passed through my middle school peers, from Undeebandz to customized Soffee shorts. I was a chubby girl with thick (and, admittedly, masculine) eyebrows that wanted to fit into the groups of popular skinny girls that sported a different Juicy tracksuit every day. These girls came from families of the upper upper middle class, that could afford buying into brand schemes. My parents just couldn’t keep up, and at the time, I selfishly hated them for it. There was a large concentration of Italian families in my neighborhood, and I felt that despite economic differences, one thing I had in common with these (now, as I see them, materialistic) popular kids was that I am Italian, too. This correlation ties into my “awkward” prepubescent years, a time in my life when I was consumed with entirely wrong values, as well as complete naiveté. I only cared about being Italian for ultimately futile reasons, such as fitting in with the In-Crowd.

For most of my childhood, both of my parents worked full-time in the city. My Dad would bring home all sorts of funny presents for me and my siblings, funny little odds and ends and doo-dads he would sweep up along the sides of tree-lined parks and greasy subways. One of my favorites was a heart sticker with a Beyonce-esque woman proclaiming through a speech bubble, “Put on your big girl panties and DEAL with it!” Another was a (printed) hand-painted portrait of Angelina Jolie, signed by the street artist, which still hangs in my room today. These objects would make me laugh, and then would eventually collect dust somewhere in the house. However, one object holds an explicitly visual memory of my experience, and has been taken care of and semi-worshipped through the years. One evening in August 2005, during the summer between  middle and high school, my dad was struggling to open my front door after coming home from work. I remember coming downstairs in a Metallica t-shirt, brushing my teeth, and seeing Dad struggling not to drop what was in his right hand. Shuffling under his arm were what looked like, through the glass abstracted door, two large brown rectangles. I rushed to the door, still brushing my teeth, and opened it for him. He came staggering inside and rested the two rectangles against the wall. I looked at them blankly, then back up at him, and said, while brushing, “Whaa ah dose?”

He simply put down his keys, and said, out of breath and sweating: “Ellis Island.” He then adjusted his collar, and looking duly ahead, disappeared into his office.

…Right.

I went upstairs, rinsed, Listerined, and went back downstairs to inspect what laid underneath the brown wrapping of these mysterious packages. What I found is one of the coolest primary documents I’ve encountered: a log of a number of passengers sailing from Naples on August 11th, 1920 upon the S.S. Providence. One of the last names from the bottom is Vincenzo Petrosino, my paternal grandfather that arrived in the United States at the age of fourteen. Unfortunately, I never met my grandfather, but this one strip of information on a seemingly mundane and even painfully meticulous travel document is the one splice of information I have on a man that single-handedly started his own fish restaurant in New York City and was able to support a family on this business alone – a business he built from the ground up.

What was communicated through my father’s prideful stories of the “fish business” is that my grandfather was obviously a high roller. However, one particular anecdote that made his memory even more enchanting was the fact that “He came to America with two dollars in his pocket!” What a marvel, starting with two dollars and ending up making a decent living! I must have heard this particular line two hundred times, between family dinners, beach-parties, and communion brunches. I looked at this travel document, and alas, my father came out of his office and pointed out the $2 scrawled upon the paper. I was amazed. My grandpa was someone that came to America and started everything, from the ground up.

I was proud of this fact, and I while I was definitely long past the years of wanting to be Italian just because it was a fad, I still caught myself wondering how I could be so stupid. It goes without saying that being a hard worker is not a primarily “Italian” trait. However, I can’t help but tie my Italian heritage in with my prideful family history. In some way, Grandpa Vincenzo even helped his granddaughter realize where true values really lie.