It’s For Everyone

Now that the CIFF has wrapped up, movie lovers in Cleveland need not panic. The second annual Greater Cleveland Urban Film Festival comes to Shaker Square Cinema, Thu 4/18 – Sun 4/21, and it’s bigger and better than last year’s.

Peter Lawson Jones, who has masterfully transitioned his career from our County Commissioner to actor (Alex Cross, Made in Cleveland) and filmmaker (Fatherhood 101), offered his unique perspective: “The Urban Film Festival is another piece of the cinematic mosaic we’re developing in our community over the years. You have the Greater Cleveland Film Commission, the tax credit and all the films that are the combined efforts of the Commission and film aficionados. [With locally made films like] The Avengers, Alex Cross and Toy’s House [now Kings of Summer] and many others, there’s a certain momentum here. And when you have a highly successful CIFF and use that energy and take straight into the GCUFF, it becomes another important component. I see it all as part of a grand effort. N.E. Ohio is not only a place to screen films, but also to make films.”

Simone Barros, an NYU film school grad who’s worked with Spike Lee, and with whom I’ve co-taught the Art of Story class at Tri-C, agrees with Peter. “The Greater Cleveland Urban Film Festival is most important because it confirms that Cleveland has a vital and growing audience for documentary and independent narratives. It’s the audience that verifies that Cleveland indie filmmakers can create a financially sustainable local distribution model. The larger the audience grows for the Film Festival, the larger the audience remains to view indie films screening at Shaker Cinemas, Cedar Lee, Capitol and Cinematheque throughout the entire year. It is also highly necessary that Cleveland filmmakers, film educators and students meet and discuss films; sharing resources, techniques and networks makes any community stronger.”

Wesley Harrell Crump, who partners with Simone on numerous production projects, and also teaches film studies at Tri-C, added this perspective as to why the GCUFF matters. “As a filmmaker, ANY festival is important, especially ones that serve to amplify a lesser-heard voice and perspective. That’s a bit of a cliche answer, but in this case, the cliche is the truth. Being that I’m from outside of Cleveland, this festival seems even more important, since in my time here, I’ve seen that Cleveland can be a very, shall we say, racially insensitive town. This isn’t just in regards to black people, but all people of brown skin or ethnic diversity. A festival of this nature opens up the playing field a little bit and allows people who aren’t typically represented to be heard. Of course the real trick is in making adequate use of the platform.”

Speaking of platform, the programming this year is far more vast than at last year’s festival debut and there’s literally something for everyone.

Per Peter, “The Festival is only in its second year. The growth is already overt. What we’ve seen is people taking a smarter approach. Whether it’s the Gay Games or a festival like this, the educational component is the critical piece. Personally, I’m involved three different ways: I have a cameo role in Swing Low, I’m moderating a panel discussion on acting and I’m taking advantage of the workshop for actors. When over, I’ll be a better actor. I’ll have another contact in the industry.”

And the overall impact? “There will be intellectual capital left behind, capital that will be useful when more films come to Cleveland. We’ll have a more educated and a better trained work force. As the festival grows, you’ll see expansion: expanded programming and greater diversity in films that will continue to grow.”

Simone shared a similar perspective. “I thought this year’s expansion of the festival events, such as the master class with Elmu Nelson, is a wonderful way of expanding festival programming to be a full exhibition and learning experience building a vital community around the festival.”

When I asked Simone and Wesley what else they’d like to see in the future, they were very passionate and specific. “In the future, I’d like to see more discussion panels relevant to how to actually make a low-budget or independent film. This is always a major topic, but the discussions usually involve how to ‘fake it til you make it’ or some such similar sentiment. I’d like to view or be a part of a true discussion on how you can turn your existing network into true resources — not just money, but space, logistics, manpower, etc. MOST importantly, how does one get that coveted exposure and media coverage for the work, which would lead to the distribution end,” contributed Wesley.

Adds Simone, “In the future I’d like to see the festival continue with the panel discussions, master class and film forum events but also include more media coverage such as press junket style videoblog or podcast interviews for the festival website and, if the stars align, a more in-depth interview talk show airing currently with the festival. Not only does this boost the public’s awareness of the festival but it moves toward festival programming similar to the Tribeca and Sundance media coverage.”

Getting to the heart of the matter, I asked all three Cleveland filmmakers if there is a difference in the movie-making and movie-going experience for African Americans vs. the general American population. And, if so, how? Each chimed in with a very unique take on things and, yet, an over-arching theme prevailed. According to Peter, “The most obvious difference for African American theater goers is that they’re more quickly and highly attracted (to films) where the African American experience is on display and African Americans are in the cast… If you look at Tyler Perry’s movies, there’s a disproportionate African American audience.”

Wesley concurred. “Films made and financed by the likes of Tyler Perry, TD Jakes and similar people are too one note and focus too much on a narrow and dogmatic view of what ‘blackness’ is as well as too high a priority on religious proselytizing. To paraphrase The Bard, “There are more black experiences in Heaven and Earth, Mr. Perry (and others), than are dreamt of in your filmmaking…”

“Great question! Yes and no,” offered Simone. “Just like among general American filmmakers, indie or innovative Black filmmakers are not readily embraced by popular Black audiences. Ironically that has not always been the case. Spike Lee came up in a time where Black college students hailed his work [and] brought his alternative films to the public eye. However, by the time Julie Dash comes along with her film Daughters of the Dust in 1992, it’s the general indie-going audience that acclaims her film bringing to boarder audiences and not a Black audience that does it.”

The good news is that things are shifting and cross-over is happening.

As Peter shared with me, “The opportunities for African American performers are better than they ever were. The people putting together [film and television] programming are more sensitive. It’s the right thing to do. Economically this makes sense: the broader the cast, the more likely you’re to draw those from these segments to your show.” And yet, the movie-going experience still remains a universal experience. “African Americans want to go to a comedy and laugh and go to a romantic story and cry and go to a horror film and be frightened. The impulses are the same. We [just] like ours with sepia-tones.”

Adds Simone, “I loved seeing non-Black audiences in attendance and seeing non-Black filmmakers screening films at [last year's] Greater Urban Cleveland Film Festival. The Black community cannot thrive within a homogenous framework — no community does. When the Black community celebrates its diversity it crosses barriers. To see filmmakers of all shades telling stories and experiences of all shades better reflects the diversity of the Black community historically and today. To see audiences of various backgrounds enjoy and relate to the films enforces the power of great films and great storytelling — to walk in the shoes of another person, to see their life through their eyes, and feel their laughter and pain through their skin.

Which is why The Greater Cleveland Urban Film Festival is so critical and why anyone who enjoys being on either side of the camera should attend. Says Peter, “If you enjoy the CIFF, you’ll enjoy the GCUFF. Don’t think it’s exclusively for African Americans. These films tell universal stories, in sepia. Anyone who loves movies will enjoy.”

For films, seminars and events, click here.

Peter Lawson Jones is currently wrapping up production on his documentary Fatherhood 101, which explores what it means to be a successful dad in today’s modern times. Interviews include Edward James Olmos, Tyrese Gibson, Alan Thicke and many others.

Simone Barros and Wesley Harrell Crump are producing All the World Over, a documentary series challenging the narrow definition of Black by traveling the world to talk to Black people in London, Paris, Copenhagen, Hong Kong, Sydney and other international cities.

The Greater Cleveland Urban Film Festival runs Thu 4/18 at 6pm – Sun 4/21 at 7pm @ Shaker Square Cinema, 13116 Shaker Square, Cleveland, OH 44120. http://gcuff.org

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.

The Sugar Wars & A Fighting Heart

 “Is it a crime, to fight, for what is mine?” — Tupac Shakur

Clevelanders love stories that are about Cleveland. The Cleveland International Film Festival knows this and treats its city residents to the Local Heroes Competition. This year, the list was on the shorter side, yet CIFF made up for it by offering quality titles that resonated with a finicky crowd.

For very the first time, the CIFF played a double feature. On April 7, in two side-by-side theaters, the Festival ran The Sugar Wars: The Life Story of Angelo Lonardo and A Fighting Heart. Patrons chose the theater based on the Q&A they preferred afterwards, as one theater hosted the producers of Wars, while the other theater hosted the producers of Heart. Both theaters were packed, despite the Sunday night 9:30PM screen time.

The Sugar Wars tells the tale of the First Cleveland Mafia Family, the Lonardos. They arrived from Sicily, where political tensions and government instability paved the way for nefarious leadership. They chose Cleveland, with New York City and Chicago as its mobster bookends. And during prohibition, they controlled the booze. The sugar created from using corn (bountiful in the area) expedited booze creation by nearly a month, with a one-day turnaround process. This created a lucrative empire for the Shaker Heights family.

In a plot that blueprints The Godfather, there were family killings, vendettas and betrayals. A son avenges his father’s death. He disappears while the officials look for him. All the while, the strong matriarch keeps her bloodline in check and knows full well what pays for her lifestyle.

The film chronicles the criminals all the way to Danny Green (Kill the Irishman played at a previous CIFF) and to Rudy Giuliani, who as U.S. Attorney began to clean the mafia house. One of the most charming aspects of The Sugar Wars are the various interviews with locals who know the story well, because they lived it. The real gem is the interview with Lonardo, inter-spliced throughout the one-hour. The casualness with which the old man discusses the murders is simultaneously bone-chilling and comical. In the audience, you’re not quite sure if you should be laughing or be really, really afraid.

A Fighting Heart focuses on the story of Johnny Kilbane, a Cleveland boxer whose family made its way to N.E. Ohio from Ireland, specifically the Achill Island off the Irish West Coast. A significant migration occurred from there to here as Ohio was looking for strong men who could physically contribute to the robust growth in the area, especially for the building of the Erie Canal. Because life on Achill Island was already tough, due to the rocky terrain and little access to resources, this specific Irish population wasn’t afraid of the work and began to plant its roots here.

Kilbane knew he’d never be a millionaire doing this kind of labor. Inspired by a local friend who believed in him, Kilbane began to train and box. At the time, boxing was a sport of immigrants and not regulated the way it is today, so his first couple of fights ran way past twenty rounds and in the most claustrophobic and smokiest locations imagined. Despite his small frame, Kilbane continued to fight his way into the national circuit, earning a reputation and the money to support his wife and family.

The big turn of events happens with a certain Jewish boxer and up until recently the footage from that fight was thought long since gone. However, Frank Stallone located it, enabling that historical fight to be included in this very film. In fact, the entire documentary is almost a series of perfect accidents and coincidences. A Cleveland man begins to clean out his attic and discovers archives and memorabilia that, it turns out, belongs to his own family. He’s a direct descendent of Kilbane. He then contacts Des Kilbane, who just happens to be a filmmaker in Ireland. Des comes to Cleveland in the summer of 2012 and miraculously gets the best sunshine this city’s known, producing beautiful shots that help unveil the story. And, like the original Kilbane in the story, they all attribute it to “The Luck of the Irish.”

The most fascinating aspect of Heart is what happens to Kilbane the boxer after he loses all his money in the stock market crash of 1929 and how he rebuilds his life as a boxing teacher and, eventually, as a respectful member of the city’s court system. It’s no secret that our local judges have Irish names (many of which are the same), but as the film reveals, most of their ancestors also came from Achill, with the character toughness passed on from generation to generation.

On surface, Wars and Heart share the Cleveland geography. But, on closer look, the parallels of these two documentaries run far deeper. Both films tell the tales of turn-of-the-century European countries in states of chaos, propelling thick-skinned people to create better lives for themselves and their families. They risked the little they had for the uncertain and the unknown. The migrations arrived here in Cleveland, one group on the city’s near east side, one on the city’s near west. Each population had its own traditions and value system and had to simultaneously preserve those codes all the while integrating within what was still a young and unshaped country. The influence and pride of both groups is still felt wide here in Cleveland.

The big difference, of course, is that while Kilbane helped the lawmakers, Lonardo was a lawbreaker. Yet what each man wanted most was to provide for his family and know that they’d be taken care of. And that fighting spirit is what makes both stories so compelling and relateable. Because if you’re not going to fight for what you believe in, who will?

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.

“Of course everyone’s time must run out. But not yet. Not until I’m finished touching a few more bases.” – Roger Ebert

Dear Roger Ebert,

My Dad texted me that you have passed on. You’re now reunited with Gene Siskel.

While you may be happy to see your long time friend and work partner, the rest of us are very sad to watch you go. I, for one, am in tears. I’ve been reading your latest book, Life Itself, for several months. Because I don’t want it to ever end. Somehow, despite that strange intuition of knowing you’ll be losing someone soon, you continue a project with them – fixing a car, weaving a rug or even planning a party – simply extending your own denial of the inevitable.

You have no idea of who I am. But it’s really important that you know how much your influence has spread into not just my life, but also the life of my family. I just wish I wrote this to you earlier.

In the late ‘70s, my Mom, Dad and Sister left the Soviet Union and arrived in this country. Specifically, we moved to Chicago and lived in the Uptown neighborhood, just off Lawrence and Sheridan Road. At the time this was a rough area and the roach–infested public housing building that we lived in made up for the cold black tile floor by providing a beautiful twelfth floor view of Lake Michigan.

Both my parents worked two jobs each to put food on the table and my Sis and I were bussed off to Akiba Schechter Hebrew School, all the way down in Hyde Park. The four of us rarely had time together as a family but when we did, we went to the movies.

Back then, we could go to either the 400 in Roger’s Park or the Lincoln Village, where the matinee ticket cost $1. We could afford the $4, so into the Gran Torino we’d hop in and drive.

We loved going to the movies. It was an event. It was our chance to not just be entertained, but also feel engrossed into American culture. And, as immigrants, integrating into that culture was critical. Mind you, none of us spoke English well back then, but it didn’t matter: the big screen knows how to show and not tell.

Because all our resources, including time and money, were sparse, we couldn’t just go to any movie. We had to be discriminate. And, so, we turned to you.

On our wood-paneled Zenith TV that my parents bought at Abt appliance store, we’d watch At The Movies and, based on your opinions, thoughts and recommendations, we’d make our own. If you gave the film a thumb up, it greatly increased the probability of us watching it.

Your perspective rang even more influential during December. That stereotype that Jewish people go to the movies and eat Chinese food on Christmas is true. The studios release so many films during that time frame, cluttering the theaters. You helped us navigate. You helped us make our movie decisions.

We eventually moved to Skokie and off to Old Orchard we went. For that $1 deal, we’d see second-run screenings either at the Skokie Theater or at the Morton Grove Theater. If we craved a night at home with Edwardo’s deep dish pizza, my Dad and I would drive over to the tiny movie rental shop the Indian immigrant owned on Dempster. He kept some great titles, bridging our very different backgrounds together.

When Gene Siskel passed way, we were quite sad. The two of you were like extended family members. My people don’t typically like having others tell us what to do, but we listened to the two of you like kids who hang onto every word of a good teacher.

I eventually left Chicago to go to graduate school and then settled in Cleveland. In the past four years, life’s changed a 1000 times, but this love of movies, rooted three generations deep into my DNA, has blossomed into a rewarding career that combines teaching screenwriting to college students as well as covering the film beat for this very publication. For two years I was even a film critic and early on would begin each review process with “I wonder what would Roger Ebert think about this story?” I’d read yours after mine was published. Seeing even an announce of similarity of observation between the two brought me the greatest glee.

Over the past four years I’ve also interviewed numerous filmmakers and collaborated on several pieces with one smart Ben Lieblich, who not only loves cinema as much as I do but has read several of your books. We’re both Gen Xers and the quintessential latchkey kids; we spent a lot of time alone. We watched a lot of movies and we both have lots of opinions on them.

When my Dad texted me of your passing, Ben was the first person I texted. He called me immediately and we exchanged our sorrows and our joys. We talked about your writing. We shared how much we enjoy reading your books. I told Ben that in Life Itself you have a whole chapter dedicated to Scorsese. Ben knows how much I love Scorsese. And how much I cared for you.

You set a bar, Mr. Ebert. You set the bar.

I even met you once. Probably an unmemorable situation for you, but quite the moment for me. I was working at Arcadia, a gift and novelty shop at Water Tower Place, where I supported myself while earning a Communication degree at DePaul. You came into the store and were looking around. I have no memory of what you purchased. What I clearly recall is how private you were. There’s so much I wanted to say to you then, but your demeanor and body language signaled a man who just wanted to go about his business and his day in quiet. And in peace.

I’m still in tears as I type this and am following all the posts on Facebook of others who admired and respected you. L.A. Confidential plays in the background on my TV screen, keeping me company. At a time like this, I know you’d want me to enjoy a good movie.

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.

In the early to mid ’90s, my work / school / home commute covered ~60 daily miles. And, once all the obligatory responsibilities were taken care of, escapism meant going somewhere to enjoy something. Whether movie theaters or dance clubs, concerts or road trips, being present in the moment during those leisure activities, coupled with working full time and going to college full time resulted almost no empty evenings.

I recall one month, in 1993 or 1994, when I looked at my work and school schedule, and realized that within 25 days I only had one day where I wasn’t expected to be at either or at both.

Of whatever TV shows I did watch, and most were after I graduated from DePaul, the common theme was Singles in New York. Family sitcoms had all but eroded, in favor of parentless 20 and 30-somethings exploring life with their friends as their support system.

But, as the decade approached the New Millennium, the family was back. But not just any family. Oh, no. The Sopranos forever changed (or reinforced) our perspective of how people in a certain illegal, ethnic industry led their lives. It was also the only time in television history, to date, where a man struggled between work and life balance.

Tony Soprano, we loved to hate you. And we miss you. Now more than ever.

This material is an excerpt from my new novella: The ’90s. Diary of a Mess, now available in Kindle edition!

Unfortunately, some stubs went missing: Depeche Mode, Sting, Eagle Eye Cherry, Alabina, Grateful Dead, De La Soul at the Wash U Wild Fest in St. Louis (with Jacob) and Bob Dylan opening for Santana. Also, James and Tom Tom Club opened for The Soup Dragons.

Concerts were my Oz. Concerts were (and still are) where I came to life.

Of all the bands I saw, the one I saw in concert most was, of course, Poi Dog Pondering. I eventually lost count at how many shows I attended, as between the paid ones, the free ones and the opening act ones, if they were on stage, I was right there in front of that stage.  Frank Orrall and his crew drove my demons away.  At those concerts, I danced harder than I’ve ever danced before or after, increasing my heart rate and releasing all the confusion in my head, instead synapsing and synchronizing the heart and mind into one joyous soul.

And for this, Frank, I thank you.

This material is an excerpt from my new novella: The ’90s. Diary of a Mess, now available in Kindle edition!

Nashville, 1996, Poi Dog Concert & T-Shirt.

Films made about Ohio, in Ohio, or by Ohioans. That is what movie enthusiasts will expect to see at this year’s Cleveland International Film Festival (CIFF) Local Heroes Competition.

Sponsored by Cleveland State University, the thirteen titles were produced in five countries, including the U.S., as well as in Ireland, Japan and Germany. Both feature films and documentaries, the genres and time frames they cover are vast. In this cinematic baker’s dozen, there is something for everyone.

According to John Vourlis, a film studies instructor at CSU, the Local Heroes Competition is important to CSU because “it supports local talent, and thus local jobs, in a growing field… [We] show our support for local film-making, and for the CIFF as an international event.”

Whether you enjoy boxing or comics, mobsters or friendship, these films offer complex stories and rich details. They even have big names. James Franco, the Renaissance man de jour whose grandmother still lives in the Cleveland area, co-directed and stars in Interior. Leather Bar. Tyler Davidson, who we’ve been featuring since before his first Sundance trip, officially kicks off the CIFF with The Kings of Summer (formerly Toy’s House).

The stories that will hit the closest to home are those that are about this place, specifically the people who live and shape this place. A Fighting Heart is about fighter Johnny Kilbane who eventually left Ireland and moved to Cleveland. The Sugar Wars: The Life Story of Anthony Lonardo examines the nefarious past of this town. And Red, White and Blueprints: A Rust Belt Documentary examines what the steel cities of the Midwest are doing to resurrect themselves in a post-modern economy.

And if you need something to tap into your inner-child, John is recommending a film that’s more light-hearted than the typical heaviness that usually attracts film festival submissions. “I am excited to see Dear Mr. Watterson. [I'm a] big Calvin and Hobbes fan!”

As the world converges on Cleveland to see all these incredible films during the ever-growing CIFF, this year explore the globe, explore Ohio, explore your neighborhood.

Just explore.

See the full list of Local Heroes films and showtimes here. CIFF runs Wed 4/3 – Sun 4/14.

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.

Sat 3/30 @ 2pm

International Celebration Makes Its Local Debut

Women have a voice in Cleveland. Whether as entrepreneurial visionaries or as empowered students, as corporate leaders or as creative innovators, the female force of this region continues to persevere in vast arenas.

Yet the people making a long-term viable impact in the arts — as in being the key decision-makers who drive whose work gets published or performed and who can deliver the cash to make these projects viable and even determine what audiences will appreciate these productions — are mostly men. There’s a reason why Kathryn Bigelow is, to date, the only woman to have ever won a Best Director Oscar. It’s not a category the Academy is comfortable to recognize women in; directing is about control.

WomenArts is trying to change that. The organization’s mission is “a worldwide community of artists and allies that works for empowerment, opportunity, and visibility for women artists.” One of WomenArts’ initiatives is SWAN Day. Founded five years ago, SWAN Day is “an international holiday designed to showcase the power and diversity of women’s creativity.”

Celebrated all over the world, on Sat 3/30, SWAN Day Makes its Cleveland debut. A migration of local and national women playwrights will perform their original works on local two stages: the Convergence-Continuum and the Ensemble Theatre. “Ticket revenues and fundraising proceeds will directly support the artists and the theaters hosting the celebrations, and will seed future years’ celebrations of the holiday.”

So go support these creative souls. And give these powerful voices the audience they so well deserve. Because the arts belong to all of us.

SWAN Day CLE 2013

Saturday March 30

2PM Matinee, Convergence-Continuum

8PM Evening, Ensemble Theatre

Additional info can be found at http://www.facebook.com/events/453514714709416 and http://network.womenarts.org

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.

Early in the decade, one of my favorite places to go was the Dome Room, where XRT’s Marty Lennartz would spin tunes from all over the world: My Life With The Thrill Kill Cult, Utah Saints, Moby, Front 242, The Orb and even Chitown’s own Ministry. With my black leather Harley Davidson jacket, blue jeans and black leather boots, late Friday nights, fake ID in hand, I’d head downtown to destress and undo all the damage the pressures of the week demanded.

As the decade progressed, the Dome Room, along with its parent building main attraction The Lime Light became Excalibur and began to attract the suburban fraternity crowd, complete with Gap attire and a deep desire to drink.

All I wanted to do was dance. And lose myself in the music.

I began to attend other clubs, all with their own unique take on nocturnal hospitality, and one, I think it was Crobar, featured women dancing in cages. Seemed like in the mid-90′s each Chicago dance club tried to top itself and the stories as to what was going on at these clubs, as well as the pressure to get in, created its own midnight myth: you were either on the list or you weren’t.

Towards the end of the decade, as life began to stabilize, the urge to let it all go began to subside and, instead, just go somewhere and appreciate the groove. And, for whatever reason, I was on some sort of list, receiving hip invites to the latest club openings. Back then, these arrived in the mail, many in translucent envelopes, teasing the recipient with something glamorous and cool.  The address labels on my invitations didn’t even include my last name. Simply Alex and whatever address they had on me.

One night, when Liquid Kitty / Celluloid, a combination nightclub, mini concert hall and boutique movie theater (where you could enjoy a hip or classic film, drink a martini and eat hors d’oeuvres) hosted a special event, I arrived with two dates: my boyfriend at the time and my cousin. We originally waited in the line outside, but then I recognized Leddie Garcia, the percussionist from Poi Dog Pondering, having a smoke. Excited to see a band mate from a favorite band, and in the most natural desire to say hello yelled out, “Hey, Leddie, how’s it going?” Leddie looked around, spotted me and yelled back, acknowledging me. The security guys immediately opened the red velvet ropes, letting the three of us in.

“Smooth,” my boyfriend said.

“I wasn’t really even thinking about it. I just wanted to say hi.”

Once in, we found our spot at the bar. This was Spring 1997 and metrosexual men began to appear at these hip joints, with their highlighted hair, smooth skin, manicured nails and DKNY sweaters. These men weren’t even really in great shape, they were just very thin.

My two men happened to be military guys. Nothing metro about them. At one point, we left my cousin alone the mostly empty bar as he ordered his beverage and lit his cigarette. He wasn’t trying to get attention. He enjoyed his privacy and we both respected that, giving him his space.

After my boyfriend and I scanned the club, checked out all the rooms and perhaps enjoyed a dance or two, we headed back towards my cousin, only to find the bar stools near him filled with all kinds of beautiful women. These women had no interest in the metro men. They (like women today) wanted a manly man. And my cousin fit that role well.

Whether going with a boyfriend, on a blind date, with some girlfriends or even alone, dancing at these clubs offered a reprieve from reality. Once in the club, I surrendered to the hard bass, the pounding rhythms and the contagious grooves.

In the clubs, I was free.

This material is an excerpt from my new novella: The ’90s. Diary of a Mess, now available in Kindle edition!

© Creative Cadence 2013.

Not only did the decade perfect the scuz genre, but it also birthed its godfather: Quentin Tarantino.  It was also a tremendous time for international directors and the king of real women drama was (and still is) Pedro Almodóvar. My girl Madonna showed up on the big screen, frequently.

Characters had depth and mystery. This notion of nothing is what is seems became a prevalent theme, the surprise element crescendoing with a certain Hungarian assassin that stunned us all.

This list was almost impossible to compile and keep to only 20 titles. It will probably piss off a lot of people. (Not one Tom Hanks movie made it – I know, I know!) I bet I could triple this list and still keep going. What the ’80s did for me (and all us Gen Xers) for music, the ’90s cemented with movies.  In fact, sometimes – well, most times – I think relating to films is much easier than relating to reality.

When life got hard, sucked or was beyond recognition – kicking me into on-going states of depression – I didn’t do Prozak. I did movies.

And these are the films I watched. Over. And over. And over. Again.

This material is an excerpt from my new novella: The ’90s. Diary of a Mess, now available in Kindle edition!

© Creative Cadence 2013.

View His New Exhibit at Loop

Zivko Radenkov takes great pride in his work. A woodworker and master craftsman, Zivko refers to himself as an artist, and that he is. The Loop in Tremont, a still relatively new N.E. Ohio coffee shop/art gallery/record store, has carved a nice niche for itself, attracts Cleveland’s creative scene. Right now it’s given Zivko its entire wall. How did this happen? He recently opened up and shared his story with me.

“I make cutting boards for the holidays as gifts,” says Zivko. “Brandy from Loop purchased a few along with some other folks. One day she approached me and asked if I’d be interested in a cutting board show as a change of pace for Loop.

“After some thought, I said, ‘OK,’ even though I had reservations about this. People have a knack to label someone with a title, thus, the cutting board guy. I took it upon myself to make some other objects to pull myself out of that scenario. So I only had a wall to fill and thought to make decorative mirrors. That’s as close to furniture as I could get.

“I believe Brandy had reservations about the mirrors but, with all due respect, I went about it anyways. I only had a few weeks to start and finish enough work to fill that wall. Seven days a week, an average of sixteen hours a day. It was tough. Interesting how this all fell into place because I feel that Brandy with her proposal for a show… [well] that triggered me into a new flow of ideas. Meaning mirrors which I’ve not done before. Serendipity.”

The exhibit draws attention not just for its bold use of colors but, also, for the impeccable craftsmanship. Upon closer look, it’s easy to see that the wood holds together seamlessly, the finishing is smooth and the detail tremendous. One of the mirrors, the one with the intricate fish pattern, took Zivko 100 hours to finish.

“The stylized fish frame. I have no idea how that triggered. That’s a mystery to me,” says Zivko. “Also, in a way, I stepped back and allowed room for the wood to help me in the design process. In my work, I rarely make any drawings and I don’t use rulers or tape measures. I compose or, rather, improvise on a feeling… Everything is connected. Idea, material, tools, emotions and a very, very important ingredient is deep passion to express something. All of this is a mystery to me. I don’t bother questioning it anymore. Matter of fact, I don’t want to question it anymore. I let it happen, like jazz musicians do.

“If I ever have a theme, it won’t be a theme that is based on visual aesthetics only. Part of the theme is always workmanship and that is vital to any design. Bad workmanship will ruin even the best of ideas. Good workmanship is an aesthetic in itself.”

Both the collection and each individual piece carry a Zen-like quality. Because Zivko has put in his 10,000 hours. He is, as Malcolm Gladwell would say, an outlier.

“All my my life, I was attracted to the arts,” Zivko says. “Visual and performing. My father was a painter and sculptor. I suppose this is where my passion for creativity came from. I wanted to be a musician or a sculptor. In high school, a senior showed off his freshly finished coffee table and it blew my mind. All of my gears rearranged and was totally turned on to furniture.

“Although wood as a medium is my favorite choice to work with, I wish I had another 100 years to live because clay, metal, stone would be my next choices. Then 100 years of music! Nonetheless, I have no regrets what so ever. I tasted drawing, ceramics in which I was fortunate to take classes from Cleveland’s own Bette Drake. Awesome teacher and artist craftsman. She studied under Tashiko Takayezu back in the ’60s. I was also blessed to study under a very world renowned furniture maker/designer James Krenov. I’m inspired daily since high school.”

Because he’s been doing it for so long, Zivko also offers this professional perspective and advice for others pursuing the craft as well as those who may want to take advantage of them: “Creative people get trampled on often. There are people out there that have a nose for vulnerable people, thus, starving artists. They will offer them a below minimum wage price for a piece of art thinking that they are actually helping them. People out there, DO NOT DO THAT! The [artists] work hard and deserve what they worked hard for.”

Besides crafting such note-perfect and almost-breathing objects, Zivko’s also raising his son Max, a really great kid that I once had the pleasure of meeting. And, about a decade ago, Zivko’s linguistic skills came in handy during the locally shot Russo Brothers hoodlum comedy Welcome to Collinwood, which featured George Clooney, William H. Macy, Isaiah Washington, Sam Rockwell, Michael Jeter, Luis Guzmán and Patricia Clarkson. Zivko was approached to authenticate the ethnic neighborhood to film.

“I had helped Sam Rockwell by translating a few of his lines into Serbian and spent time with him in helping to develop a tad of dialect. It was much fun and we enjoyed each others company as well as with other cast and crew members.”

Whether it’s improvising like jazz, translating for cinema or creating new designs, Zivko’s hands are rough for a reason: he just keeps working.

“To me it’s about [the] work. Meaning that there are others like myself that studied under a certain school of thought. This particular school stays away from trendy or ‘original’ work. We try to make things as honestly and truthfully as possible. The title of one of my teacher’s book is The Impractical Cabinet Maker. That is appropriate in describing my methods of working. Also, I always hope that whatever I work on will keep a person smiling as they live with it.”

And live with it you can.

So stop by the Loop, get a cup of coffee and explore the natural art of a local artist. Take a look at that mirror. You’ll love what you see.

Loop is located in Tremont at 2180 W. 11st Ave. http://facebook.com/LOOP.

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.

The Influence of Marissa Mayer and Sheryl Sandberg  

The Dow Jones is rallying at over 14,000 and yet the only thing the business media can talk about is two corporate leaders: Marissa Mayer and Sheryl Sandberg.

Both Americans have a lot in common: Gen Xers, highly educated (Mayer – Stanford, B.S. and M.S.; Sandberg – Harvard, A.B. and M.B.A), and earned their .com chops (~a decade each) at Google. And both now hold leadership positions at highly-visible firms: Mayer is CEO of Yahoo and Sandberg is COO of Facebook. Both are on the boards of very prominent firms. Both are married. Both are young moms. Both are very attractive. And, oh, both are women.

Mayer made headlines most recently when she ordered a new policy stating that employees now have to work from the office (vs. from home, a coffee shop, the beach, etc.). Sandberg’s making waves because in her new book, Lean In: Women, Work and the Will To Succeed, she encourages women to pursue professional success and strive to have the best careers possible.

Their recent decisions and publication have set off a global media firestorm. Feminists are mad because they think both women are out of touch with real working women. Employees are mad because they want the flexibility to work from anywhere, especially in our tech-networked society. And anyone with a social media account is chiming in as though they’ve had the rare experience of either of these two women. Mayer is the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 firm. Pre-Google, Sandberg served as Chief of Staff on the United States Treasury.

Speaking of Fortune 500, here are some recent stats in America:

- As of 2012, we had a record breaking number of women as Fortune 500 CEOS: 18, up from 12, from 2011. That’s a whopping 3.6%.

- According to the 2013 Bureau of Labor Statistics, for the exact same job, “White women earned 79.6 percent as much as their male counterparts, compared with Black (87.4 percent), Hispanic (86.6 percent), and Asian women (71.6 percent).”

- Catalyst.org recently compared maternity leaves in various industrialized countries. In China, women have a 14-week maternity leave. In Russia, 20 weeks (ten before and ten after birth). Italy: 5 months, at 80% of the woman’s salary. Canada, mothers can take 17 – 52 weeks maternity leave, with up to 13 weeks paid. Here in the U.S.: 12 weeks, unpaid.

- Men who have a wife at home, over the course of their careers, make more money than men whose wives work outside the home.

All this professional gender discrepancy in 2013. How can this be?

I spent two full decades working for domestic and international corporations, in various states in this country. I’ve seen some things. And here’s what I know for sure regarding the entity known as Corporate America:

- Women who want to advance need to wear heels. Men need to learn golf.

- Women, if they have a male boss, get noticed more by looking good, wearing skirts that cut just above the knees and, when necessary, flirt it up with their senior male manager. Men who want to get noticed get a beer with their boss.

- Women who go into their boss’s office and ask for a raise are looked at as weak, because they didn’t attract the right man who would be a good provider. Men who go in and ask for a raise, because they have to take care of their family, are considered as doing the responsible thing.

- Women will take much less credit for the same work as men and are perceived as weaker and more difficult. Men can say things and seem more credible and easier to get along with.

- Women who come into a meeting and lay down the hard facts, the cold truth and the direct approach, expecting swift results, are then referred to as bitches or “on the rag.” Men who do the same are considered assertive and loyal.

These are not gentle statements. They are neither stereotypes nor are they meant to strike up a war of the sexes. They are my observations.

Nearly three years ago, Hanna Rosin published a front page article in The Atlantic called “The End of Men.” It drew so much fury and momentum that it has since grown into a book. The article is a fascinating take on the state of things and Rosin did her homework, comparing who is graduating from college more (women) and graduate school (women) and how the white collar corporation of today demands more social and interactive/emotional skills that women are supposed to be better at. According to Rosin, the women are winning.

But are women winning at the price of men? If once there was a time when women couldn’t vote or couldn’t get a mortgage or a checking account in their own name, today it’s a fascinating conundrum where, simultaneously, while women seem to be running a faster race, men are still the ones holding the finish line.

The scales are way off-balance, on both sides, and I’m not really sure who — if anyone — is really winning. If, say, twenty years ago, while I was in college and a man would compliment me on my hair I’d smile and say, “Thank you,” today I could easily sue that man for sexual harassment. And win. Is a compliment harassment? I don’t think it is. And, today, more and more women, with their corporate status, corporate credit cards and corporate business travel, are the ones initiating and having the affairs.

The rules are changing. Worse, no one knows the rules. All of this is making everyone very nervous. Just like Mayer and Sandberg are making everyone very nervous.

If our mothers’ generation, the Baby Boomers, brought the women’s movement forward, it was at a great price: divorces, latchkey kids and ultimately for both generations, corporate layoffs. Now, who do we believe in? Who do we trust? What is our path?

In 2012, Augusta National finally invited its first two women to join the exclusive club: former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and financier as well as President of Rainwater, Inc., Darla Moore. And, yet, Secretary of State is still the highest political position a woman has held in this country. All the while England had Margaret Thatcher, and that was in the ’80s. Indira Ghandi and Golda Meir began serving as India’s and Israel’s Prime Ministers back in the 1960s.

At a time of still tremendous fiscal uncertainly, and a still thick and wide glass ceiling, Mayer and Sandberg aren’t just leading two global giant corporations, they’re also making millions of dollars doing it. No one gave them their positions or their salaries. No one put them in charge. They climbed into their current roles. Of course, they had parents, teachers and mentors, of both genders, who believed in them. Somebody along the way recognized Mayer and Sandberg for their intelligence, dedication and potential. And the two women continued to prove their worth, with new opportunities that they took on, with or without the approval of others.

For feminists to cry foul and accuse Mayer and Sandberg of not being real, I ask not real to whom?

I’ve been extremely fortunate to have had incredible women bosses during most of my career — women who, like these headliners, earned their bachelors and often masters from prestigious universities, women who (usually while on my watch) realized they were pregnant and had to learn the incredibly difficult balance of work and family, and women who knew how hard success was and took great care in leading — and leaning — me to my next level, without ever feeling like I was their threat. Instead, they trained me, demanded a lot out of me and then, eventually, brought me into their sorority. These women, my former bosses, are great leaders. And great leaders know that there’s plenty of room at the top and mold others to harness our own power. To all of them, I say, “Thank you!”

At a time when the country is so politically divisive — with one side thinking that as Americans it’s our individual responsibility and our legacy to succeed and to make something exceptional out of ourselves, while the other side, equally passionately, feels that the government and society should take care of each other — here are two people who are very clear and quite unapologetic on where they stand.

And that is what makes the media and corporate leaders, men and women, Boomers, Xers and Ys, so nervous about Sandberg and Mayer: they know exactly who they are, they know precisely what they want, they’ve earned their stripes, they’re making their own rules and they’re building opportunity, all the while answering to insatiable shareholders and driving the Dow.

Now that’s something to rally about.

 [Images: Google.com]

Reprinted with permission and gratitude from CoolCleveland.com.