Art Speaks -- A Unique Collaborative Art and Theatre Project

Art Speaks – A unique collaborative art and theatre project

Saint Stephens High School (Hickory, NC) students from Sue Hardy’s Drawing II, III/IV, & Visual Arts III and Molly Rice’s auditioned class of actors, writers, and singers Play Production have collaborated to produce a magazine-style book, art display and performance called “Art Speaks”. The artists and actors have worked closely together in dialogue as partners. The artist and actor together have chosen a persona to bring to life – some include making death, fear, confusion, a secret, broken cell phone, and dog tags speak, among others. The actors have created monologues, poetry, prose, and songs based on their chosen persona and the artist has created art work from their favorite medium.

Forty-six artists and actors met on Tuesdays and Thursdays during class to be a part of each other’s art as it was created. The project was kick started by Irish poet Adrian Rice who shared the “Muck Island” box a joint book made with Irish artist Ross Wilson. Muck Island is housed at Tate Gallery and Harvard University.

Artist Sue Hardy and Poet Molly Rice have teamed up as well to enjoy the experience with their students. Both teachers agreed that it was refreshing to focus on their own artistry since being a teacher leaves little time for creating outside their classroom.

“Art Speaks” will be performed in a unique walk-through production where the audience will get an intimate look at the students’ work.
Saturday Nov. 13th at the Hickory Museums of Art’s Coe Gallery at 4pm. This one-of-a-kind event is free to the public.

In the afternoon, the book “Art Speaks” will be launched.

Books, art prints (for framing), and CDs of the original music produced for the project will be sold. This project has been documented on film and a DVD of the work in progress and performance will be sold at a later date.

For more information, or to order copies of the books, prints, or CDs, contact Molly Rice at mollyrice@embarqmail.com

Molly Rice, December 11, 2008

There are people who seem to do nothing and people who seem to do everything. As a lifelong educator I’ve noticed the ironic phenomenon that the students who seem to do the best on their schoolwork are the ones who are the busiest. One might expect that those doing less would have more time to study and would therefore do a better job, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
If one takes Molly Rice as an example, the same pattern seems to hold true in the adult world as well. Rice is a wonderful poet, but that is just the tip of the iceberg when describing her. She is also an award-winning theater instructor at St. Stephens High School in Hickory, award-winning director of the Tractor Shed Theater, Advisor for the “Corona” Yearbook, editor of St. Stephen’s literary magazine Indian Ink, freelance teacher of workshops in poetry and drama, and author of textbooks and children’s books.
Originally from Charlotte, Rice has held several residencies teaching poetry, theatre, and ESL in hundreds of schools, colleges, and organizations in NC, United Kingdom, Ireland, Russia, and Hungary. While living in Ireland for six years, she became a Pushkin Trust Artist for the Duchess of Abercorn. She has been published in various webzines and magazines including Fortnight Magazine and The Stinging Fly. Her first collection of poetry – Mill Hill – is forthcoming.
The poem below is a part of that manuscript and a part of the soon-to-be-released anthology Voices and Vision from the Hickory Women’s Resource Center (look for more information on that publication in a future “Musings”).

Home Front

My mother
Rips the glow
From the lightening bug
And paints our faces
With her florescent fingers.
We wait and watch
With round eyes,
E l e c t r i f i e d,
For our marks –
Cheeks puffed,
Breath bated.
Crickets’ cantos
Ricochet off trees.
Rough, yarn-worn fingers
Press my face.
One stripe
Down each cheek –
Warm gut glow.
All the mill hill houses
White and straight in a row
Know:
Within their walls
Wars are growing.
But tonight, with him not home,
We three little Indians
Escape a scalping
And dance in the dusk
Glowing.