We are now a few months into the Biennale and the Gloria installation at the U.S. Pavilion has maintained a consistently high level of attendance, with over 250,000 visitors since the opening.

Working from Venice for the past two and a half months, I had the chance to assist with the performances and meet some of the athletes. Two of them, Sadie Wilhelmi and David Durante, have kindly agreed to answer some of my questions about their experience at the Biennale.

Dave was a member of the USA Gymnastics team for six years, including a participation in the Olympic games in Beijing.  Sadie is a gymnast with extensive dance and circus background. Before coming to Venice, she performed as a freelance aerial artist with a company in New York and took part in other dance and choreography projects.

Here is what they have to say about their experience at the Venice Biennale:

How did you get involved in this project?

Dave: The IMA and USA Gymnastics are both in Indianapolis. When the project was selected, I was asked to participate based on my background and experience with the U.S. team. Besides performing myself, I am the athletes’ coordinator for the whole project and in charge of the logistics, including finding the performers and runners. I worked with the choreographer and performers who were selected to create the routines. We trained in New York for about four months before coming to Venice at the end of May.  I’ll be here in Venice for the entire run.

Sadie: I got involved through my friend Olga Kaminsky, who is good friends with Dave.

 How long did it take to create the choreography?

 Dave: The choreography took a little bit of time. Initially we did not have the sculptures, so we worked with mats and foam blocks.  Rebecca Davis, the choreographer, was instrumental in putting it all together and bridged the gap between the gymnastic and the dance world.  The performers also had input here and there.

 Sadie: It took us months to put this together. We started in January of this year and it came together during lots of hours of training and rehearsal.

 How many people have performed these routines since the opening of the show in early June?

 Dave and Sadie: We’ve had three guys and three girls for the gymnastics, as well as five runners.  At the opening, we also had Chellsie Memmel, who was part of the team in Beijing, and world champion runner Dan O’Brien.

 Were the artists involved in the choreography?

 Dave and Sadie: They gave us some guideline parameters to work with. They wanted gymnastic movements that one could see during a routine at the Olympics.  The real challenge for me was to take gymnastics and push the limit on what is physically possible on these sculptures, while staying safe and not get injured.

 The routines are much longer than what you are normally used to. Is this difficult?

Dave: Initially the artists wanted the performances to be about a half an hour long. Gymnastic routines are usually between 60 and 90 seconds, while circus routines are normally between six and seven minutes. So to push this to a much longer extent of time (the routines are now fifteen minutes) was a real challenge.  The artists came to New York for a week and we put together a series of little sketches for them. They really liked certain pieces and did not like others, so we cut certain things and started to work with them over that week to put their final stamp on the pieces.

How does it feel to perform so close to the public?

Dave:  It has been the best part of performing, because when you are competing in an area with 15,000 people, it’s just you and the apparatus and the judge watching you. You feel such a disconnection with the public. Here their energy is what you use. They are not speaking, but their eyes are speaking. There is such a connection, you can feel them holding their breath.  They can see you sweat and breathe heavily. That part is really cool for me.

 Sadie: It is such a new feeling for me.  Both with dance and the aerial work there is much more distance between you and the public, so it is really really intimate to have the public so close. Sometimes I kick people or the sweat is flying around. My toe started bleeding one time. It makes it very real when people can see everything that is going on.  It brings people in. They can really follow you once they can connect with that.

 How does it feel to be part of an artwork?

 Dave: I love art and I do a bit of art myself, mostly drawings and pastels. But this is a whole new realm for me as an artist. This is something that I do not think has ever been done from an athletic side of things.  To be a first in that sense is special. The whole ride has been scary at times, not knowing if we could pull everything together in time, and making sure that the pieces were what the artists and the museum wanted.

Sadie: The more I learned about the Biennale and the more involved I was getting with the project, the more honored I felt about being part of it and how we are basically inscribed in art history.  It’s really unique to be part of a performance in a contemporary art piece.  We have had such interesting and good feedback from the audience.

What about your experience in Venice?

 Dave: I had been here a couple of times but living here is a completely different experience. Not too many people get to live in Venice. Being able to come here and perform has been great. Sadie and I have our own blog where we tell all of our adventures and stories here in Venice: http://www.daveandsadie.blogspot.com

Sadie: I had never been to Italy before and it has been an incredible experience. Coming to work by boat every morning and working in a museum in the middle of a garden is magical. We have been doing the most amazing things. It has been truly the most amazing project I have worked on in my life.

What’s next for you?

David and Sadie: We will be here until the end of November. We are currently in the process of putting together some acts of our own. We have some other gigs around Italy and hope to possibly extend that to New York. We will also be in Indianapolis to perform in March.

"Heaven and Hell on Earth," 1995. Corn husks, corncobs, dried mushrooms, roots, burned wood, clothing, bedding, toys, wire, metal, fabric, Christmas tree ornament, rope, carpet, paintbrush, other found materials, oil, enamel, spray paint, and industrial sealing compound on canvas on wood. Collection of the Souls Grown Deep Foundation.

In the same way, to talk about Thornton Dial, to consider the artist’s place both removed from and edging into the mainstream art world, to put into context his work and view of the world, and relate it to broader truths about American art, culture, history,  and values—it’s an exciting  and meaningful challenge.  But Rome wasn’t built in a lunch hour lecture.  So we’re giving it a day.

This Friday at the Toby is the big event:  Hard Truths: A Forum on Art and the Politics of Difference.  It’s not a straight-forward symposium.  There will be a podium, yes, and a succession of first-rate deep thinkers who will approach the topics of the day from a variety of fascinating perspectives.  But discussion sessions will also keep things very lively.

For example, Julian Bond, American civil rights all-star, will connect Dial’s experience and presentation as a black artist to the history, present, and future of the modern civil rights movement. Bond will then go straight from the podium into a conversation with forum speaker Greg Tate (his talk title: Neo-hoodoo Imaginations and Hollering Bebop Ghosts in the Southern Black Visionary Tradition). Important thinkers from the local community have also been invited, such as Roderick E. Bohannan, attorney with Indiana Legal Services, Inc., who will join Bond and Tate onstage. Audience members will be welcome to join in. IUPUI professor Modupe Labode will moderate these open discussions.  It’s fair to anticipate a slew of audience members with arms up in the air ready for the next available microphone. And each session’s speaker and discussions with take the conversation down another exciting path.

Moving from one talk to the next, we may find ourselves wishing for a moment to return to a topic that was deferred due to time. There will be great opportunities to revisit. First among these: included with the forum ticket is admission to the Dial exhibition. I’m telling you, you need more time in there. Later, after a nice break for dinner, Forum speaker Theaster Gates and ensemble The Black Monks of Mississippi will take the stage (again, included with the forum ticket) to perform And the Whole Yard Said Amen in response to Dial and the day. What happens when you intertwine the sounds and moods of southern gospel and eastern chanting and add a layer of blues? Come and find out. To further celebrate all this, we’ll next move from the Toby to a catered reception in the museum’s Nourish Café. Great conversations will recommence.

Hope to see you there. We need to talk.

Working with living composers is, hands down, the best part of my job. Young or old, famous or totally unknown, bright-eyed or curmudgeonly, supportive or critical, it is always an eventful artistic road trip.

Composer Steve Reich was a boyhood hero of mine, so when we had the opportunity to work with him on Double Sextet, his Pulitzer Prize-winning 2008 piece that ends our concert at the IMA, I was full of nervous excitement. We’d been warned about his uncompromising vision, mostly via fifth-hand rumors that were some variation of, “He’s really demanding, and will freak out if he isn’t happy with what you’re doing.”

Reich was much more hands on than was typical for composers of his stature. Although he wasn’t ever actually in the room with us until the day of the premiere, we sent him rough recordings from our rehearsals at every step in the process of preparation, from the day of our the first Double Sextet rehearsal. He would offer us comments in detailed, illuminating emails, and we would try to respond to these concerns in further recordings.

Here’s an example, from a January 2008 email:

“Winds, strings and vibes from 409 – 432 are a bit ‘blocky.’ Try to always have the music ‘leaning forward’ vis a vis the beat and not right on top of it, hammering it. Light and always moving ahead (not rushing) wins the day.”

And another:

“When strings and winds come in at 537 its a bit too ‘espressivo’ – just a bit cooler will do it. Held notes have no crescendo – just evenly held. Think baroque.”

Both emails created heated arguments, and we went back and forth several times with Reich until he was happy.

Why does Reich get so involved in this process? Forty years ago, Reich’s house band, the Steve Reich Ensemble, was the only group performing his music. They evolved a distinctive sounding “house style” with its own unique energy. Compositions like Drumming and Music for 18 Musicians were developed without much recourse to the printed page. This intense, collaborative process led to a certain energy and style of playing that have become inseparable from the music, and Reich perhaps feels that it is his responsibility to pass this down to all ensembles that are encountering his work for the first time. This can ensure a sort of “legacy” for performances of his music during the composer’s lifetime, but what about well into the future?

And those rumors of Steve as an unreasonably hard taskmaster? Hugely exaggerated. After this exhaustive, intense process of preparation we were all a little jittery about what the composer might say when he heard us play the piece live. At the end of the Double Sextet dress rehearsal, at which the composer was present, Reich’s only reaction was, “Wow, fantastic. I really have nothing to say.”

Now that it’s spring, we’re days away from a concert of another sort: Grammy-award winning contemporary music ensemble eighth blackbird will perform at The Toby Saturday, March 26 in a concert co-sponsored by Ensemble Music Society and the IMA. So what’s the connection besides the truism that spring always follows winter?

One striking aspect of that wintry afternoon was the spectacular contemporary art everywhere in the home.  Wherever we glanced were paintings and sculptures by well-known artists. The collection was fabulous. So the guests were listening to a great collection of early 19^th century music while enjoying paintings and sculpture from 150-175 years later.

What would you think if the contrasting periods were switched?  Does the art you enjoy at the IMA or have on your walls at home match your “art for ears?”  Are you willing to go to a concert and be as surprised and challenged as you are when you enter the fourth floor galleries at the IMA?

I remember thinking once I was quite sophisticated and knowledgeable about modern music, so I expounded to a friend, “John Adams and Philip Glass—how pointlessly simpleminded.”  Then I went to a conference in LA where we heard excerpts from Adams’ then somewhat new opera Nixon in China. That evening changed my perspective on an entire group of modern composers and deepened my belief that music loses so much when it’s recorded.

When eighth blackbird first came to Indianapolis almost three years ago, I experienced a tinge of anxiety before the concert because this group included extensive percussion and used video projectors with amplification in the program, again extending my personal boundaries of “classical” music, and as well as for many in the audience.  The audience reaction by people of all ages was enthusiastic.  You have to be willing to jump in and try it out.

So look beyond the dozens of recordings of Vivaldi or Pachelbel on iTunes and come to The Toby on March 26.  Be open to change and discover exciting music by Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Missy Mazzoli and others.

Angelic sounds from the mystical country that produced Bjork, in the month of January, in The Toby, made by a musician headed for Istanbul and London once his US tour is done?  A poetic no-brainer.  So it stands to reason: you must join us at the IMA for Ólafur Arnalds this Saturday evening.

Here’s a sample from Arnalds’ new record, …And They Have Escaped The Weight Of Darkness:

I find these sounds delicate as a paper-thin sheet of ice on a lake.  Resplendent as white fondant on a winter wedding cake.  Patterned like lace, or bird tracks in the snow.  At the concert, there will be long-haired ladies playing cellos.  And moody sweetness with the lights low.  A little peace; a fairy-tale feel.

Read what one concert-goer had to say about the show in Detroit on Wednesday night.

Oh, I’m supposed to also tell you that you can enter a sweepstakes to win a trip to Iceland, courtesy of Iceland Naturally.

So, tomorrow, our crack IMA public programs team will fire up the lights and sound in The Toby, tune up the Bösendorfer, provide plenty of smoothies and beer (as requested in the rider), tear the tickets, and then let Arnalds’ sonic sheen wash over us all.

A guy in a suit and tie hits on a log with a big stick, producing a deep thumping vibe. Another one rattles a young maple tree, making a swishing sound, while a woman in a black dress and sky-high heels shimmies on a slatted wood platform. A full moon rises behind the trees as dusk descends.

Such was the scene at last week’s fall equinox performance in the IMA’s 100 Acres. Pharm Accident, the performance group of Big Car, christened the Ruth Lilly Visitor Pavilion with its first full performance since the Park opened last June. Here’s a portrait of the Pharm Accident performers:

The organic structure of the Pavilion and its hideaway sensibility begged for a performance that was equally organic. Seventy-five people agreed and came out on this humid September night to experience this offbeat concert.

Eight sets of dancers and sound makers (all wearing blue jumpsuits, each signified by a different type of leaf) were controlled by Jim Walker, Big Car founder and maestro of the overhead projector. Walker placed leaf shapes on the projector, triggering one or more of the eight sets to dance and make avant garde music.  Take a listen and see more images from the event.

This concert in the woods helped us reconnect with everything primal; and it was a surreal way to usher in the autumn season. Thank you, Pharm Accident!

Now we’re planning for the spring equinox. Ideas welcome…

Back at the derby: spray-painted, crumpled automotive beasts tumble against one another.  The air is filled with terrific absurdity.  These vehicular masochists have planned these clashes.  They have intended it, and yet not intended it – very much like an artist’s relationship to the work of art s/he creates.

I learned three things at the demo derby:

• Embrace the ugly
• Push through anything crippling
• Take things that are hard by nature and try to soften them

Some of these concepts underlie the abstract form of movement called Butoh, made with slow-mo gestures, prolonged facial expressions and the baring of the unconscious.  The dancer Oguri returns to the IMA November 7 with another Butoh-inspired performance, this one an interpretation of the literary experiments of American author William Faulkner (The Sound and the Fury, Absalom, Absalom!).  Fear no art: what appears incomprehensible and senseless at first actually might actually reflect the order of the universe.

More on the November 7 event as it nears.  Until then, keep smashing, clashing, and seeking truth.

In introducing the evening’s program, Mr. Lin noted Tan Dun’s frequent mention of shamanism when discussing his work. Theater historian David Goodman has written about the ancient roots of theater art in ritual performances at shrines. During such sacred performances, the audience witnessed a transformation of one or more of the characters on stage. Goodman argues that this element – the witnessing of a transformation – remains at the core of many theater traditions. When the audience watches as the performer changes, the people experience a kind of sacred catharsis. An audience member cannot transform into a ghostly spirit, or become the essence of unbridled rage or grotesque regret – but the actor can. In this sense the shaman and the actor are one in the same. Both have the ability to journey to painful and dangerous spiritual places, and to return to the ordinary human world we recognize as “reality.” Though Goodman writes specifically about Japanese theater, last night’s performance with Chinese cultural references brought his ideas to mind. Ghost Opera is a daring expression of the composer’s understanding of the shamanistic function of the performing art.

And then there was the sound! An exquisitely sad violin solo interrupted by a rude, unexpected squeak. Hisses, whispers, the clack of stones, a shifty sound of paper rubbed or crumpled. As the Ghost Opera unfolded, I began to think that I – and perhaps all humans – continually listen for the sound that signals a crack in the veneer of ordinary reality. On some deep level, perhaps our ear is always cocked for it, vigilant even though not consciously aware of the anticipation. Has a small sound, significant only because it does not make sense, ever caused you to startle? To snap to conscious presence in the instant? Are such sensations harbingers of mental illness? Or are they a neurological symptom? I guess either of these is possible; but last night such eerie sounds came from musicians who transformed, before our very eyes, into shamans who could speak to the spirit world.

One more feature of the evening was notable for me. As I sat in the balcony savoring the visual beauty of the stage design and Tan Dun’s astonishingly post-cultural soundscape, I sensed a strange collapsing of history and time. “Neo-cultural” isn’t a term I’ve heard, but I’ll improvise here and try using it to describe a sense of something human in a primal, ancient sense, but at the same time, something of a future that is just beginning to enter our consciousness. On the one hand “Neo” evokes the term Neolithic, the period when humans moved from hunting/gathering into the life of village farmers. Not that humans didn’t have culture as they wandered for Paleolithic millennia. However, that way of living lightly on the earth has been almost completely erased from the memory of modern humans. We are today the cultural descendants of our Neolithic ancestors. On the other hand, “Neo,” as I’m using it, also represents the sense of glimpsing something new, beyond the multi-cultural phase of human societies today. Tan Dun’s work somehow manages to touch something very ancient in the audience, while at the same time opening a new possibility for being connected with fire, water, stones, and air – with the earth itself.

I am grateful to Glen Kwok, executive director of the International Violin Competition of Indianapolis, for helping the IMA bring such an extraordinary performance – an performers – to the new theater! May this be the first of many provocative and beautiful artistic events in The Toby!