For this year’s Fall Arts Issue, we wanted to focus on reaching across boundaries — of race, geography, and others that are harder to define.
Part of the reason for that, of course, is that this issue was created in the long shadow cast by the June 17 massacre at the Emanuel AME Church. Art has a way of connecting people, of exposing us to viewpoints and ideas that we would otherwise never encounter. And that will be particularly important as Charleston continues to address the vital questions of race that the Emanuel Nine threw into violent relief.
In the following pages, you’ll find stories of artists who are working in the margins, or creating links between their own communities and those far away — whether literally or figuratively. It’s our own small way of contributing to the conversation. Enjoy.
Some days Eden Teichman isn't quite herself. "When something happens to me during an average day, I try to think how my character would respond. I spend a lot of time on what makes a character tick. — Margaret Pilarski
"A fluttering of wings here and there. NAT is asleep. DIANE is trying to tune the radio." That's the opening stage directions for The Birds. You know the one, a novellete originally written by Dauphne du Maurier — the same tome that inspired Hitchcock's film — Kinsey Gidick
After nearly two decades teaching in College of Charleston's theater department, you would think Allen Lyndrup would be ready for a break from the stage. — Kirsten Schofield
Anyone who has ever participated in Halloween knows that a costume can make you feel like another person. The right wig, the right shoes, or even the right underwear can transform a life insurance salesman into Peter Pan, a French teacher into Marie Antoinette. — Kirsten Schofield
To most people, a discarded three-by-three glass cube looks just like that — a glass cube. To Ryan Ahlert, however, it's so much more. "I've used the ice box as a window, and I've used it in lighting designs to make a cool refraction," says Midtown Productions' technical director. — Kinsey Gidick