Resilient Ohio: After Roof Collapse, Marysville’s Avalon Theatre Rises Toward Summer Reopening

Arthurian lore speaks of Avalon, a legendary island serving as the final resting place for heroes who earned peaceful deaths in idyllic sanctuary after spending their lives completing dangerous quests.

A different Avalon—the Avalon Theatre that will open its doors on Main Street in uptown Marysville this summer—is also meant to be a paradise of sorts, one dedicated to the performing arts in Union County. And, like the legends of old, the journey this historic theatre has undergone throughout the past 12 months is its own epic tale of trials and triumphs.

“If we start back on March 6, 2020, we had just finished our first-ever strategic plan for the theatre. We were all on this high, we had great goals set for 2020, construction was to start, and we were on our way,” said the Avalon Theatre’s Executive Director, Sarah Barr. “And then … one week later, everything shut down (because of the coronavirus). Fast forward to June, and our building collapsed.” 

The Avalon had been in the midst of renovations for about three months when a deteriorating supporting truss at the proscenium gave way in the back of the building and crumbled, sending bricks tumbling into an alley and leaving beams hanging broken and exposed.

Barr immediately took to the theatre’s Facebook page to provide an update in a live video, filmed while hard-hat-clad workers assessed the damage behind her. The collapse was devastating for the Avalon staff and board, who were already trying to navigate a multi-million-dollar capital fundraising campaign during a pandemic.

“All of that excitement we had at the beginning of spring was replaced with a sense of devastation and just this feeling of, ‘Oh God, what’s next?’” Barr said.

The Avalon Theatre, located at 121 S. Main Street, is a community icon that celebrated its original grand opening in August 1936. A 500-seat theatre outfitted with art-deco-style flourishes and air conditioning, the Avalon welcomed audiences to live shows and film screenings until 1972, when it was transformed into a movie triplex. The theatre—then known as the Marysville Cinema—would remain a space ruled by the silver screen until December 2009, when it closed for what many thought was forever.

After sitting vacant for 10 years, falling into a state of disrepair, the Avalon became the focus of a renovation project led by the nonprofit organization Marysville Uptown Theatre. The group has been working to “bring the Avalon back to its original roots and provide the community with a facility to experience quality cultural, arts, and educational programs,” according to the Avalon’s website.

In classic myths and legends, heroes must endure “the dark night of the soul,” or the part of the story where all seems lost and through which they must fight their way out through strength and perseverance.

Once the dust from the collapse had settled, that’s exactly what the team behind the Avalon Theatre did. The damage necessitated a reconsideration of building design plans, which allowed for some upgrades that Barr said will ultimately better prepare the theatre for a bright future in Marysville.

“We were able to look at the theatre and say, ‘How can we make this better for the community and for the artists who are going to take the stage?’” she said. “Because we were able to overcome and look beyond the devastation, we were able to say, ‘Let’s add dressing rooms.’ We wouldn’t have had those before. Or ‘Let’s put in infrared filtration in our HVAC systems so that people can stay safe in our environment when they’re allowed to re-enter.’”

Approaches to fundraising changed, too. After all, Barr acknowledged, there’s an extra layer of personal vulnerability that’s added when giving a presentation from one’s living room. We no longer could have face-to-face engagement. Instead, we were connecting in each other's personal spaces.  We are doing these big asks, and my house plants are hanging above my head, my dog is in my window barking at our neighbors ... it made it a lot more of a 'real' connection, and I valued that connection. I feel others did, too.”

The ability to embrace positivity amid unexpected setbacks speaks to the strength of those working to see the Avalon’s red-and-black façade illuminated in uptown once more, said Karen Eylon, director of the Marysville and Union County Convention and Visitors Bureau.

“There is an energy, an absolute, resolute sense of place and love and pride for what is here in Union County,” she said. “And to be able to have the beautiful theatre that was once here as a phoenix rising up from the dust of the collapse … this continues to stoke the fire of the passion we have for where we live and where we work.”

Now, as the restored theatre looks ahead to its grand opening, slated for August 2021—the month of its 85th birthday—the community is ready to usher in a new era of enjoying the arts together.

It’s a concept that seems even more precious given the past year of distancing, isolation, and performances viewed on a screen rather than on a stage.

“This theatre opening in August, at this point in time, is critical to the well-being of Union County residents and generations to come. If nothing else, it’s memory-making,” said Eylon. “You don’t exactly make memories by sitting in front of Netflix all day. We’re ready for this as a culture, and we need this as a culture.”

For Barr, the vision of what the Avalon Theatre will become has been the driving force behind the project’s resilience.

“When we broke ground back in March, we felt as if this could be the hope at the end of the pandemic,” she said. “Looking back at the past year, yes, many horrible things happened, but they were not the end of us. I think that as long as you believe in the good that you are doing, and you believe in the community and have the right people surrounding you, the sky’s the limit.”

To learn more about Marysville’s Avalon Theatre, visit theavalontheatre.org.

Resilient Ohio is an ongoing series highlighting the innovative solutions developed by Ohio arts organizations as they navigate the effects of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic. The impact of COVID-19 has created incredible financial obstacles for the arts across the country. According to Americans for the Arts, the negative economic impact of the coronavirus on the arts and cultural sector totals $15.2 billion across the nation—and counting. If you have a story to share about creative perseverance within Ohio’s arts community, please email it to communications@oac.ohio.gov.
 

ABOUT THE OHIO ARTS COUNCIL
The Ohio Arts Council is a state agency that funds and supports quality arts experiences to strengthen Ohio communities culturally, educationally, and economically. Connect with the OAC on Facebook, follow us on Twitter, or visit our website at oac.ohio.gov.

###

Article by Amanda Etchison, Communications Strategist
Featured photo courtesy of the Avalon Theatre

ArtsChat Ohio: OAC Staff Talks Artmaking "After Hours" (Part 1)

ArtsChat Ohio is an audio blog bringing you the latest news and updates from Ohio Arts Council staff members. These conversations are recorded to be enjoyed using the audio player below. A transcript and show notes are also included.

Transcript
Audio transcript edited for clarity.

CAT: Hello, everyone! I'm Cat Sheridan, director of the Ohio Arts Council's Riffe Gallery, and I'm here with Katie Davis, the OAC’s arts programs coordinator.

KATIE: Hey, Cat!

CAT: We're here today to talk about the Riffe Gallery’s upcoming exhibition, After Hours: Artwork from State of Ohio Employees 2021. After Hours showcases the artwork and creative talent of state workers from across Ohio.

To lead up to the exhibition's opening on April 29, we're kicking off with a special series of mini ArtsChat Ohio episodes highlighting OAC employees’ artmaking processes and discussing how they create all kinds of art outside the office. So, let's get started.

This year’s After Hours exhibition has artwork by quite a few Arts Council staff members, including you, Katie.

KATIE: And you, Cat Sheridan! And, you know, I’d really love to know more about how the After Hours show came about what's the history behind it.

CAT: Well, the After Hours show is currently in its third iteration. The first show was in 1990. It was early on in the existence of the Vern Riffe Building and for that they decided to have a show exhibiting the works of workers that were in the Riffe Building. For the next iteration in 2017, they expanded it to all state workers, so that there was a greater diversity of folks across the state to really highlight the talent that's interspersed.

And it's always been important to spotlight the creative people that are really all around us, including state workers like yourself, Katie. Can you tell me a little bit about why it's important for you to make art outside your role as an arts administrator?

KATIE: Yeah, sure. My art practice is such a great balance to my role as an arts administrator. They're very different hats to wear, but they're also really connected. After helping artists in front of a computer screen for much of the day, it's very balancing for me just unplug, create, and be more physical.

It's kind of like exercise and meditation for my brain. The verbal part of my brain can stop, which sometimes that just really need a break. And I tap into a more intuitive and visual form of communication.

I really need my art practice to be a whole person, and it also helps me understand what artists need and experience out there in the world, because I am one of them.

And, Cat, can you talk about how directing the Riffe Gallery has influenced or changed your art practice?

CAT: Absolutely. As a part of the Ohio Arts Council team, and particularly with the gallery, I can't help but be influenced and change. The very language of arts in all forms is one that expands awareness, piques curiosity, pushes you to deepen your understanding. And in order to serve our exhibiting artists and our viewers, it's imperative that I jump wholeheartedly into expanding my knowledge, not just of our artists’ work, but the works that historically or contemporarily link, so that I can do justice in helping amplify their work, which I'll say is an art in and of itself.

Also, when leaning more fully into arts admin roles, I tend to put my artistic works to be more on the meditative and balancing side myself. And that's certainly the case in these last couple of years.

KATIE: That's great.

CAT: I wonder, Katie, could you share your experience and balancing motherhood and artmaking? Are they totally separate, or is that something the whole family gets in on?

KATIE: That's a great question. When the boys were really little, it was necessary to hide from them while I worked, or else I would never have finished any work or any paintings. I had to steal time from their naps or the weekends to make the work, but now I have a studio on the main living area of our house, so I’m more visible when I'm working.

I can work with the kids right beside me or in the other room. And I really don't use anything toxic, so I can work at the kitchen table, which sometimes I take over. And my youngest son, Oliver, he'll make little drawings that look a lot like my paintings, which is really cute. Whenever I'm doing a series, he's doing a series very similar to what I'm doing.

So, they're all artistic, but I really like everybody to have their own space, kind of separate space. I just make sure that they have their supplies and whatever they need. The only art supply that we all fight over is the electric pencil sharpener. That's a hot commodity in our house.

CAT: I love that.

KATIE: Yeah. And Cat, I think I remember your creative pursuits leading you into the kitchen this past year. So, what's the story behind those proofing bowls I see?

CAT: Oh, yes. So, “Tina” is my sourdough starter, and she was born March 18, 2020, and is still going strong, feeding us all and making delicious things.

To be honest, the pandemic kind of really stalled me in my creative practice, and so I pointed all of my creative energy toward this practice, similar to the way that I use ceramics to be meditative. I really just kind of transferred that into the kitchen, and then I have tasty results.

I recognized some years ago that one of my core values is deep caring for loved ones. So, baking bread was a really grounding way to allow me to focus my thoughts and energies and then give those tasty gifts to the folks that I love.

At a certain point, I wanted to be, like, super extra and get really fancy with my sourdough and the patterns that you can achieve with your proofing bowls. And a great way to do that is to make your own. Not a lot of folks do it, but I was like, ‘Hey, I have the tools, I’m a ceramicist, among other things, so let me take a shot at it.’

 So, there you go. They don't call it ‘culinary arts’ for nothing.

KATIE:  Yeah, that's great! I wish I lived closer to you.

CAT: Katie, I noticed your paintings are growing beyond their canvases and including some wall, maybe some installation elements. Some of which are explored in the works you have in After Hours. Can you tell us a little more about this evolution of your work in the exhibition?

KATIE: Yeah. So, right before the pandemic started, I was in the middle of a series called ‘Boundary Lines,’ where I was thinking about maps, colonialism, and the original boundary lines of indigenous communities that lived in Ohio.

And then, once I was confined to my home for a few months, I really just gave into my urge to work off of those panels and onto the wall. So, I broke the boundary lines of the paintings very literally. I took my materials of cardboard, paper, paint, string—kind of more domestic items that were in my home—and started creating large installations in my living room, my dining room, office, and my bedroom. My husband's really supportive and he just says, ‘Okay,’ when I take over a room. It got really out of control for a while, but I've reined it back in recently.

And having shows outside of my home like After Hours, it helps get the work out.

So, Cat, now it's my turn to ask you the same question. Can you tell me more about your work that is in the exhibition? I was surprised to learn that you are painter as well as a ceramicist.

CAT: Surprise! I can't just keep to one medium. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I'm, like, really into art. It doesn’t matter if it’s visual, written, dance … really any way you can serve it up, I'm eating it. Give me a whole plateful, I want to try it.

I love to do portraits, and the three portraits in the show come from an exhibit that I did with my partner at a local arts venue called Streetlight Guild back in the Fall of 2019—before we knew the world was going to change. That show was called 2-Piece, and my partner and I narrowed down a list of artists in Columbus that we really wanted to celebrate for their phenomenal contributions to community.

And so, we ‘gave them their flowers now,’ and we thought, you know, what better way to celebrate someone than to immortalize them? So, in these three portraits, you'll recognize writers and poets Dionne Custer Edwards and Barbara Fant and visual artist Lisa McLymont.

KATIE: Oh, that is awesome! I'm so looking forward to seeing your work and all of the other amazing pieces shared by our fellow State of Ohio employees in After Hours. So, how can people view the exhibition?

CAT: Great question. All of the programming associated with the exhibition is free and online. Folks can follow us on Facebook for live and archived programs and register for upcoming programs at riffegallery.eventbrite.com.

KATIE: That’s great! I can't wait to tune in.

CAT: It's going to be fantastic!

Well, that wraps up our ArtsChat for today. Thank you again to Katie for joining me to talk about all things art and After Hours.

You can explore more of our work on the websites we’ve linked to in the Show Notes. And stay tuned for next week's episode where two more of our colleagues will talk about their artistic passions and their work in After Hours.

Show Notes

Traditional Arts in Ohio: A Blues Journey

In December 2020, I had the good fortune to spend an hour on Zoom speaking with Wallace Coleman, a Cleveland-based blues harmonica player and 2007 Ohio Heritage Fellow. We talked about aspects of his life story, and about a blues itinerary that winds through many decades, states, and countries. Though we were safely hunkered down in our respective homes in Cleveland and Columbus, our conversation was a journey that told a story of musical travels, years of practice, later-in-life discoveries, and well-deserved recognition.

Wallace Coleman did not hear the blues growing up as a child in the 1940s in Morristown, Tennessee. The local air waves were filled with country music, and church was the one place where Coleman heard music played and sung by Black musicians.

That changed one day when he was scanning the dial looking for the Lone Ranger program, and instead picked up WLAC out of Nashville.

“And I said, ‘What in the world is that?’” Coleman recalled.

What he heard was an electrified blues harmonica.

“And when they got through, a guy comes on he says, ‘This is John Richbourg at WLAC, Nashville, Tennessee, that was Little Walter,’” Coleman said. “I had never heard blues, and I had never heard it played electrically. So, I’m saying to myself, ‘What kind of instrument is that?’ I got hooked on it. And then he put Muddy Waters on, and Little Walter was playing harp behind one of his songs. And I said, ‘Man, that really sounds great. I've never heard anything like that before.’”

Coleman started tuning into WLAC every night, and he continued tuning in after he moved to Oak Ridge, Tennessee, to live with his mother, joining families of job seekers from all over the south who came to live in the “Atomic City,” the former site of the Manhattan Project.

“Then I got to meet young Black people from Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, all over,” he said. “And some of those people knew WLAC; they had been getting it on the radio for years.”

In the Atomic City, Coleman could listen to blues on the radio from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. every night, and he often did.

“I’d go to school the next day—I’d be so sleepy,” he said, laughing. “Listened at the radio too many times, I guess.”

Living in Oak Ridge also put Coleman closer to Knoxville, where he saw his first live blues show.

“It was in the Black section of town, it was a theatre called the Gem Theater. And I remember they had Jimmy Reed. That was the first blues musician that I ever saw in my life,” he said. “They had him there one weekend, and I caught the bus from Oak Ridge. And that was a big thrill. You know, here’s a genuine blues guy playing the harmonica and the guitar at the same time. I said, ‘Wow.’ I really got hooked on the blues.”

Around that time, Coleman also started playing the harmonica. He sent for Lonnie Glosson and Wayne Raney’s learn-to-play book, which they promoted through their radio show on WCKY out of Cincinnati. The first song he learned to play was “The Mama Blues,” the title song of the book.

“I learned how to play that­ – I said, ‘You wave your hands back and forth!’ And after that, it seemed like I started getting better at playing some of this stuff by Jimmy Reed and different harmonica players,” Coleman said.

As a young man Coleman also spent time in Union Springs, Alabama, where he moved with a friend for six months to harvest cotton and cut timber. There, in the evenings he’d go to juke joints—small, informal, Black-owned clubs considered to be the true home of southern blues culture.

“That was my first experience going into a juke joint to hear blues music,” he said. “And I got hooked on that.”

Coleman was in his early twenties when he moved to Cleveland in the mid-1950s. He’s lived in the city ever since.

“When I got to Cleveland,” he said, “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

It was a thrill living in a city with a major league baseball team and with plenty of places to hear the blues. Legendary blues artists’ tours often traveled through Northeast Ohio, so to Coleman, it seemed that the blues were now coming to him.

“My stepfather started taking me to these places because he knew I liked the music,” Coleman said. “There was a place in Cleveland called Gleason’s that you could go and hear all kinds of blues bands.”

Coleman worked at Cleveland’s Hough Bakeries —a union job that had a 30-and-out retirement policy that would set him up to pursue his second career as a musician. He eventually became a Work Leader, assisting managers and overseeing operations and scheduling. During his years working at Hough Bakeries, Coleman nurtured his love for the blues by seeing as many shows as he could and by playing the harmonica casually, practicing at home and on breaks at work.

In the late 1980s, shortly before he retired, a friend at work told Coleman that he should see about sitting in with Cleveland blues musician Guitar Slim sometime. Coleman didn’t have the nerve to approach Guitar Slim, so his friend invited him to Hough Bakeries one day to hear Coleman play. They sat in a car and played, Guitar Slim on his guitar and Coleman on his harmonica, and Guitar Slim made him promise to come sit in with his band at the Cascade Lounge—which he did two weeks later.

By that time, Cleveland wasn’t just a popular stop for touring blues artists—Robert Jr. Lockwood and Sonny Boy Williamson II had actually made their homes in the city. About a year after Coleman began sitting in with Guitar Slim, Lockwood visited the Cascade Lounge to hear Coleman play. He was impressed with how Coleman played changes—the technique of playing along with the rhythm section, rather than playing lead. This style of playing was the hallmark of Lockwood’s former musical collaborator, Little Walter Jacobs (who Coleman had first heard on the radio back in Morristown, Tennessee).

Lockwood invited Coleman to come play professionally with his band. Coleman waited another year—until he had 31 years in at the bakery and could retire—and then gave Lockwood a call.

Coleman spent six months practicing with the Lockwood Band and then joined them on tour, launching his new career as a professional musician. He recounted the story of the first time he played in front of several thousands of people, at the King Biscuit Blues festival in Helena, Arkansas, not far from Lockwood’s childhood home.

“The first time I went, we were on the main stage, and it was so many people,” Coleman said. “I’m looking, and Maurice the saxophone player looked at me, and he said, ‘Wallace, you alright?’ I said, ‘I think so.’ He says, ‘You don't look too good.’”

Maurice told Coleman not to look out at the crowd when he played.

“‘You take your harmonica and look up and play like that,’” Coleman remembers him saying. “He said, ‘Don't look at the people. They’ll get on your nerves.’ And that was true. I didn’t realize it.”

Coleman eventually got over his nerves, and he fondly remembers returning to that festival.

“That to me was the greatest blues festival I’ve ever played in. It wasn’t real big, like some of them. But it gives you a good feeling because that’s where the blues came from. And everybody’s so friendly—it’s a cool place,” he said.

When Coleman joined the Lockwood Band, a whole new world opened up to him – he toured Japan with the band in 1990 and 1995, and he played in front of enormous crowds at events like the Monterey Jazz Festival and the Montreal Jazz Festival, each with more than 250,000 in attendance.

Especially in the early years, Coleman preferred to stay in the background when playing with Lockwood. That changed one night when a bandmate suggested that Coleman fill in on vocals for a musician who couldn’t play that gig. At Lockwood’s request Coleman sang that night, and after the gig, he took Coleman aside, upset that he never mentioned he could sing: “Don’t you never hold back something like that in this music,” he told Coleman.

After that, Coleman was featured in the opening numbers the band would play before Lockwood came to the stage, often performing several songs by his favorite artists (like Little Walter Jacobs). And when they weren’t touring, several of the band members formed a side band to play local shows, with Coleman at the center.  

After they had toured together for several years, Lockwood began telling Coleman that he should think about forming his own band—that the people wanted to hear more from him. 

So, in 1997, after 10 life-changing years, Coleman decided to leave the Lockwood Band and formed his own group. He recorded his first, self-titled CD on a local label; after that, he and his wife, guitarist Jody Getz, formed their own label to release their next five albums. Their most recent release, “Live from Sao Paulo to Severance,” features live recordings from shows in Brazil and from Cleveland’s Severance Hall.

Coleman has seen blues communities change significantly during his lifetime.

“In Cleveland—and I’m pretty sure this is not the only city that has done it—the clubs have closed down,” he said. “(There are) at least a half a dozen clubs that we played that I know went out of business.”

Festivals, too, have been shrinking or folding over the last few decades, and the COVID-19 pandemic has hit festival organizers, club owners, and performers hard.

“The whole business of blues is not gonna come back like it was in the ‘50s and ‘60s,” Coleman said. “And you don’t have that many young Black people that are into blues anymore. They’ve got their own thing, which is cool.”

Coleman takes heart in the fact that musicians are keeping the blues alive, even if there are fewer of them.

“(As) long as the music is still breathing, it ain’t completely dead,” he said.

And although the big crowds are certainly thrilling, Coleman said he loves playing informal, intimate music venues just as much, if not more. Smaller spaces are a better fit for performing both electric blues and folk blues, the style he’s playing more of these days.

Today, Coleman said, Clarksdale, Mississippi, is the real blues mecca, home of the Blues Museum and plenty of operating clubs. He has also found larger audiences and eager collaborators overseas.

“When you go out of the country, that’s when you realize that (blues) is definitely not dead, in Europe and South America,” he said.  “I mean, those people really come out in big crowds to hear you there.”

Although his in-person appearances have been put on hold during the pandemic, Coleman still tours nationally and internationally, thrilling fans of traditional blues and folk music in the U.S., Europe, and South America.

Coleman recorded his latest album during his most recent tour of Belgium and the Netherlands in 2019 and was backed by The Little Boogie Boy Blues Band from North Holland.

“And man, they can play!” he said.

During our conversation, Coleman asked me if I played any music. I said that I played a little guitar and banjo and added that one of the things I found so interesting about our conversation was how it spoke to the potential to chart new artistic courses later in life.

“You know,” Coleman said, “I thank God. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to play even at that age. But I was blessed being a person with the bakers’ union—30 years and out at any age—and I had my 30 years when I was 51 years old, so I was able to retire. I’m blessed to get that. If I hadn’t have done that, I probably would never have started playing at all. I’d have just been a guy that listened to music.”

As for taking the next step in my musical journey, Coleman did have one piece of advice: “Don’t wait too long!”

ABOUT THE OHIO ARTS COUNCIL
The Ohio Arts Council is a state agency that funds and supports quality arts experiences to strengthen Ohio communities culturally, educationally, and economically. Connect with the OAC on Facebook, follow us on Twitter, or visit our website at oac.ohio.gov.

###

Article by Cristina Benedetti, Ohio Arts Council Folk and Traditional Arts Contractor
Featured photo: Wallace Coleman playing with the Robert Lockwood Band at Brothers in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1990. Photo by Terry Hardy.

Like Music to Our Ears

I recently read the headline of an article titled “Coming Back? It Makes No Sense,” and I thought about the team at the Ohio Arts Council and the many, many arts organizations and artists we serve, and the audiences who rely on us, both in Ohio and around the nation.

The idea of “coming back” is like music to our ears, when we take a moment to let ourselves dream again. My mind went right to imagining performances of every genre, whether inside beautiful theatres, repurposed spaces, or outdoor pavilions. And then I began to think about the hundreds of thousands of hard-working arts administrators, actors, musicians, photographers, marketers, promoters, producers, and on and on—all those who somehow kept going, kept their incomes and livelihoods afloat however they could, rarely left their home offices or front yards, and just kept on working. They kept engaging, innovating, imagining, and doing—all to ensure the arts remained central to our mental and physical health during a global pandemic.

To you, I say, thank you. Thank you for staying the course. Thank you for arts content delivery in new ways. Thank you for sticking your neck out to say, “Wait, we’re here and we’re not going down!” That made sense.

At the writing of this article, Governor Mike DeWine announced expanded vaccine eligibility for all Ohioans 16 years and older by March 29. Again, the reprise of that music to our ears—we’re coming back. Certainly, and tragically, so many of us have suffered loss—of a cherished tradition, of a milestone celebration, of a job, of a loved one—but we are resilient, and we are coming back.

And Ohio’s robust health care system is a big reason why we can come back. Thank you to the nurses, doctors, techs, and hospital and medical center administrators who barely left their stations to ensure we were taken care of during the health crisis. Thank you to our wonderful essential workers who gave up so much, sometimes leaving their own families for weeks and weeks, to ensure Ohioans had care, tests, vaccines, food and basic needs, and so much more. Thank you for risking your lives to keep us as healthy as possible.

When I had my first vaccine in early March (guess how old I am?), my husband and I went to Secrest Auditorium and Music Hall in Zanesville—and for once, I wasn’t there for a show. In fact, it was the first performance space I’d been in for a year! I knew the exact location, could imagine going in the building, wished it were for a performance, but ultimately I was so thankful it was open to serve the community. I’m not sure if I imagined it, or if I remembered it from their website, but the words were “We will soon be announcing new performances and shows.” Again, we are coming back.

Thank you to all the arts administrators and board members who lead the work of our arts venues and organizations across Ohio. Thanks to all who have made their spaces available as vaccination sites. Your commitment to community has never gone away.

Last March, my team—the fabulous professionals at the Ohio Arts Council—went to their homes to work remotely for what we thought might be a few weeks, maybe a month or two, if it was as bad as the projections seemed. None of us could believe the crisis on most days, and we would say, “It makes no sense.” And we would find ourselves exclaiming that phrase, “It makes no sense,” over and over during a long list of milestones over the past 12 months. As time passed and work continued—and even accelerated as our agency proactively provided economic relief—we kept our fast-paced stride. Most folks thought we were at the office because our work was—and remains—business as usual (except for travel restrictions).

We promised ourselves we wouldn’t waver. We didn’t move away from our mission to fund and support quality arts experiences to strengthen Ohio communities culturally, educationally, and economically.

We have much more to do, many pivots to consider and make within nonprofit business models, and new and exciting modes of service delivery to perfect. As long as our public health trajectory continues toward recovery and we keep safety in mind, we are well on our way toward flexing our resilient, creative, and free artistic spirits to come back in full. If anything, our next generation of leaders are already more prepared for the unexpected, more adaptable to worldwide impacts, because of their 2020 (and 2021) experiences. We are all more focused on what can be and will be because we are now fully paying attention … we’re together and we’re ready for next steps, new opportunities, and a positive way forward!

Thank you to the transformers, virtuosos, and catalysts who are leading us away from normal into something not yet fully realized, something that some will say, “this makes no sense.” Let’s not listen to the nay-sayers: We’re coming back—did we ever really leave?—and we’re stronger and smarter for the experiences. At the Ohio Arts Council we still believe that the arts are better when we all work together … that makes sense!

Until next time,

Donna S. Collins
Executive Director

Featured photo: Ohio Arts Council Executive Director Donna S. Collins, OAC Arts Learning Coordinator Chiquita Mullins Lee, and 2021 Ohio Poetry Out Loud State Champion Monserrat Tlahuel-Flores at the 2021 Ohio Poetry Out Loud State Finals Competition, broadcast virtually from WOSU Studios on March 5. Photo by Terry Gilliam.

Traditional Arts in Ohio: Seasonal Art and Family Folklife with Pysanky

Many who observe the Easter holiday enjoy the tradition of dyeing and decorating eggs, but few are able to produce eggs as intricate as Carol Snyder’s of Columbus.

Snyder is a ceramic artist year-round, but every winter and spring she returns to her Ukrainian family tradition of decorating pysanky (pronounced pih-SANG-kee). Pysanky eggs are made, displayed, and shared almost exclusively during the Lenten season—the 40 days prior to the Easter holiday, as observed by several Christian denominations.

Decorating pysanky is generally understood to have begun in pre-Christian times in what is now Eastern Europe. Decorated eggs became sacred objects that were given as gifts to ensure well-being and were placed in homes or with livestock to protect them. Many of the symbols used to decorate sacred eggs were carried forward into the Christian era, with new meanings ascribed to align with a Christian worldview.

Ukrainian and other Eastern European immigrants brought the artform to the Americas, where it has thrived as a seasonal family tradition. Snyder’s grandparents on her father’s side immigrated to Johnstown, Pennsylvania, and joined a Ukrainian Eastern Rite congregation there. Decorating pysanky is usually passed down by women in Ukrainian families, and Snyder’s grandmother, Anna, brought the tradition to their new home in the U.S.

It was Snyder’s father Charles (Swanick), however, who ended up carrying on the tradition from his mother.

“When Lent started, dad would always pull out all of the supplies and sit down at the dining room table and do pysanky,” she said. “It’s absolutely tradition every year, from the beginning of Lent until Easter, you just decorate eggs. And he kept the tradition. Usually it was in the evening, which obviously works best because he was working.”

Snyder said she sees a connection between her father’s occupation and his love of pysanky.

“He’s an engineer,” she said. “So, I think that was very appealing to him, the design work and everything . . . He was so precise. It was almost scary, like, ‘leave him alone, he’s doing these eggs!’”

Snyder and her four siblings knew to be careful once the pysanky supplies came out.

“It was kind of that, ‘Don’t move the table. Don’t run around. Don’t jolt anything,’ because he’s working on his eggs,” she said.

Snyder does not remember ever decorating eggs with her father—she recalls just observing his annual return to the tradition. In doing so, she was absorbing the techniques and processes of the artform.

“I know we watched a lot,” she said. “And I was one of those kids that would just probably sit and stare. Just sit at the table quiet, and just watch him.”

However, as she grew older pysanky called to her.

“I started doing them—not during college or earlier years—it was more when I was married and had a family,” Snyder said.

As with her father, she sees a connection between her occupation and her stewardship of the tradition.

“I kind of picked up the torch, probably because I’m the artist of the family, so it was very intriguing to me,” she said. “When I got old enough, I thought, ‘You know what, it’s a beautiful tradition, I want to keep it going.’”

At that time, there was a shop in Columbus that sold pysanky materials—the dyes and kistkas, the special styluses that hold melted wax.

“So, every year I went and got wax and dyes and started doing it myself,” Snyder said. “And like anything, as you do it, you get better and better.”

The eggs that Snyder decorates look intricately painted, but their designs are actually made through a wax-resist process of inscribing and sequential dyeing, moving from lighter to darker colors. The process starts with drawing an initial design in pencil on a chicken egg. The pysanky artist then heats the kistka in a candle flame and scoops up some beeswax. They return the kistka to the flame and melt the beeswax, which flows out of the kistka like ink. The artist then uses the beeswax to draw on the undyed egg, just in the areas that they want to appear white in the final design.

Next, the artist dips the egg in the first color of dye—usually a light color like yellow. The dye absorbs quickly into the spaces that are not covered with wax, and the artist then moves onto the next inscribing step—drawing on the designs that they want to appear in yellow.

Once those designs are complete, the artist dips the egg again in the next-darkest dye—maybe orange or red. The process is repeated until the darkest color of dye has been used. There is no erasing or modification possible in the dying process, so pysanky artists must learn to live with their designs and take any lessons learned onto the next egg.

Once the dyeing process is complete, the pysanky artist melts off the wax inscriptions carefully, avoiding burning the egg. Snyder then seals her eggs with Minwax and sets them out to dry.

Simple pysanky eggs can take an hour or so to decorate, but some of Snyder’s more intricated pieces take several days to complete. But this is part of the appeal for her.

“It’s really kind of nice to look forward to in the evening, to sit down and just have a quiet time, and just sit and do those,” she said. “It’s meditative. It kind of recenters you, you know? It’s really peaceful. So, it’s a good tradition to have and keep going.”

Snyder has hosted pysanky-decorating parties with friends. They’ve been fun, she said, even if the designs suffer a bit.

“It’s not like a quilting-bee kind of activity. In the past, pre-COVID, I would have friends over who aren’t at all Ukrainian, but they’re my artists friends. We would get together, everyone does an egg, has dinner, and drinks wine,” she said. “The eggs that get done aren’t very great, but we have a good time!”

Snyder also described how important the seasonal aspect of pysanky has been to its continuation in her family.

“It just feels good to do around Easter time,” she said. “It’s just the thing to do.”

She added that her grown children don’t currently practice the tradition, but she imagines they might later with their own families.

“I'm hoping so,” she said. “Because it’s so ingrained in our Easter. It’s just something that is part of the household. My kids just grew up that way—all the dyes were out on the kitchen counter. That’s what we were doing in the evenings. I was working on an egg, and they could come and join or not. It’s just kind of what you see, almost like people who grew up with a Christmas tree in the house at Christmas every year. It’s kind of the same thing.”

On the topic of Christmas, Snyder mentioned that some pysanky artists have found success decorating and selling eggs at Christmas time.

“I had a friend who did them for shows,” she said. “She would do them professionally and do them as Christmas ornaments.”

That artist made great sales and had some collectors, Snyder said, but she did remark that something always felt off about the process.

“She said it just didn’t feel quite right,” Snyder said. “It’s like, ‘no, they’re for Easter.’”

Snyder has also tried decorating outside of the Easter season, but she quickly abandoned it.

“I can’t do them any other time than Easter,” she said. “I’ve tried and I just can’t; it just doesn’t feel right. So, hopefully that’s part of it—where it just is part of Easter, and it keeps going.”

The gift-giving aspect of this tradition also helps keep it alive.

Snyder paints eggs for her parents and for her Ukrainian friends every year, and there is some expectation that she will continue adding to their collections.

In her own home, Snyder displays her finished eggs in bowls of rice or oats to keep them safe, so that she, her family, and friends can enjoy them for years to come.

To learn more about decorating pysanky, check out this video from the Capital Ukrainian Festival in Ottawa: https://rebrand.ly/Pysanky-workshop

ABOUT THE OHIO ARTS COUNCIL
The Ohio Arts Council is a state agency that funds and supports quality arts experiences to strengthen Ohio communities culturally, educationally, and economically. Connect with the OAC on Facebook, follow us on Twitter, or visit our website at oac.ohio.gov.

###

Article by Cristina Benedetti, Ohio Arts Council Folk and Traditional Arts Contractor
Featured photo: A basket of pysanky eggs. Photo courtesy of Carol Snyder.

Resilient Ohio: Cutting-Edge Safety Measures Keep Richland Academy Thriving

Picture the titular characters of Ivan Reitman’s 1984 “Ghostbusters” movie roaming around with their special “Proton Packs” strapped to their backs. In the film, the team of supernatural exterminators used these portable particle accelerators to capture ghosts and keep the people of New York City safe from paranormal pests.

Now, picture a similar scene unfolding in the halls of Mansfield’s Richland Academy of the Arts. The faculty and cleaning crew aren’t capturing ghosts, of course, but they are using a similar-looking gadget to keep people safe from a different invisible threat: the novel coronavirus (COVID-19).

A new disinfectant sprayer, filled with the same liquid cleaning solution used in hospitals, was purchased by Richland Academy as one of two new cutting-edge safety protocols the organization has introduced since officially reopening its doors in June 2020. The sprayer makes it possible to clean soft surfaces, which are difficult to clean to COVID-19-santizing standards.

Another coronavirus-compliant safety measure installed at Richland Academy is a high-tech HVAC system equipped with a new needlepoint bipolar ionization unit to more thoroughly clean indoor air.

 “The new ionization unit works by destroying different pollens or pathogens that can be harmful to humans,” such as mold and other viruses, said Alli Lange, Richland Academy’s marketing and social media coordinator. “This new system (is) proven to kill 99.4 percent of the (COVID-19) virus within 30 minutes.”

The decision to install this state-of-the-art HVAC system came to staff members at a board meeting when the reality of COVID-19 hit and solutions were needed to ensure a safe environment for students and teachers.

“We were very blessed when one of our board members here who owns the company that services our HVAC system brought the actual unit itself to a meeting,” said Richland Academy Executive Director Marianne Cooper “We knew that if we wanted to continue teaching classes, that this was absolutely the direction we needed to go.”

Richland Academy is a nonprofit arts center that receives operating support funding from the Ohio Arts Council. Like many educational institutions across the country, the academy has been greatly impacted by the realities of COVID-19 and had to close its doors for three weeks in February due to a few staff members testing positive for the virus. Upon reopening, the new HVAC installation and disinfectant sprayer, combined with other practices such as social distancing within classrooms and mask-wearing, made it possible to continue offering classes in dance, music, theatre, and martial arts to members of the community in a healthy and safe manner.

 “We have had students who have reached out to us expressing how important it was to them that we are open and running so that they had that avenue to really express themselves even during this time,” Lange said. “It’s no secret that COVID-19 has impacted people’s mental health in a negative way, so on top of us wanting to provide arts in education opportunities to our community, we want to make sure that we are taking care of our community’s mental health.”

As institutions everywhere continue to adapt to this new reality, the adoption of health technologies such as the bipolar ionization HVAC unit has already made a large impact in several facilities. Similar units have been installed at the White House, the Mayo Clinic, and Harvard Law School.

Cooper said it’s all about adjusting and responding to information and best practices as they become available.

“(COVID-19) has driven us all to look in a different direction, some other way to keep people as safe as we can,” Cooper said.

And it seems to be working. These new safety protocols have given many students and members of the Mansfield community peace of mind that they are still able to pursue the activities they love—just with some new health and safety aspects added to the experience.

“What we are finding, which is so amazing, is that we are getting new students,” Cooper said. “We have a student population of about 60 percent first- time students, which speaks to the fact that people are really searching for safe activities for their children.”

And it’s not only school-aged children reaping the benefits of Richland Academy’s activities. Programs are also provided for adults ages 60 years and older. Even though COVID-19 is considerably more of a risk for seniors, older individuals have been enthusiastically taking part in Richland Academy’s senior program.

“What we found when we were able to reopen, (seniors) came back in droves,” Cooper said. “They were so eager to become involved in life outside of the home. It was quite interesting to see that happen.”

Looking to the future, Lange said she is confident that investment in health and safety technologies is truly a step toward Richland Academy’s long-term resilience.

“The safety of our faculty and students is our top priority and has been from the beginning,” she said. “We really consider these new projects to be a great step forward in providing a clean and safe environment for our community.”

For more information about programs offered at Richland Academy, visit richlandacademy.com.

Resilient Ohio is an ongoing series highlighting the innovative solutions developed by Ohio arts organizations as they navigate the effects of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic. The impact of COVID-19 has created incredible financial obstacles for the arts across the country. According to Americans for the Arts, the negative economic impact of the coronavirus on the arts and cultural sector totals $14.8 billion across the nation—and counting. If you have a story to share about creative perseverance within Ohio’s arts community, please email it to communications@oac.ohio.gov.
 

ABOUT THE OHIO ARTS COUNCIL
The Ohio Arts Council is a state agency that funds and supports quality arts experiences to strengthen Ohio communities culturally, educationally, and economically. Connect with the OAC on Facebook, follow us on Twitter, or visit our website at oac.ohio.gov.

###

Article by Cassie Rea, 2021 Ohio Arts Council Arts Administration Fellow
Featured photo courtesy of Richland Academy of the Arts