At Omnium Circus, inclusion and accessibility take center stage

Posted on February 13, 2025

By Leah Cohen

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

The Omnium Circus made its debut in 2021, but for founder and executive director Lisa B. Lewis, the journey began more than three decades earlier.

While performing as a clown, Lewis noticed an entire section of the arena sitting with their arms crossed and seemed angry. Despite being at the circus, they struggled to understand the acts going on around them. Lewis’ clown partner started telling jokes in sign language, and the group erupted in laughter.

“It was the power of inclusion,” she said.

In 1986 Lewis moved to New York and began working in a hospital performing a “Circus of the Senses” adapted show for children and their families. It was such a hit that parents wanted to know why they could come only once. So, Lewis created weekend and evening shows for families to experience and enjoy together. When the pandemic hit, Lewis began to push the idea further, asking how she and others could create this type of access all the time.

Omnium, a diverse, accessible, and inclusive circus, was born. The goal of the circus is to create an experience reflective and welcoming of all people. To mirror the one in four Americans with a disability, over 25 percent of the nonprofit’s performing company and 40 percent of its total team are members of the disabled community.

“The idea was to create representation so people can see themselves reflected on stage and know they are capable with hard work to be their best selves,” Lewis said.

When she presented her initial idea to current team members in 2020, Lewis worried it might have been too crazy. But no one talked her out of it. Instead, they joined her, and immediately got to work on building the show. The team behind Omnium Circus is made up of not only others like Lewis who have spent their entire careers in the industry, but newcomers as well, including members of the disabled community who never previously had the opportunity to join a circus.

For Ermiyas Muluken, a seasoned performer with over half his life dedicated to the circus industry, joining Omnium with his ladder-balancing act was more than just a new experience — it was a powerful extension of his mission to inspire through his craft.

“Circus is not just going and doing your thing and getting money,” he said. “It’s also to inspire people. It’s a message and you don’t have to speak it.”

An Ethiopian native, Muluken has since relocated to DC, where Omnium Circus will kick off its 2025 nationwide tour on February 22 at DC’s Warner Theatre.

In addition to Muluken’s ladder act, the audience will get to see the world’s fastest juggler, a chair-stacking act, and a hair-hanging act, to name a few.

During the show, Omnium offers different accessibility options including audio description for blind audience members, ASL integrated into the performance, a calming area in the lobby, ADA seating, and more. Lewis listens to members of the disability community and constantly asks how Omnium can make the experience better.

“Accessibility is not as hard as you think,” she said. “You have to pay attention and figure it out.”

Omnium Circus is an experience for the whole family to enjoy, a show for “human beings,” as Lewis explained. The 90-minute performance is an opportunity to connect and bond with others no matter the differences. During one show, for instance, a young girl sat next to another child who happened to be deaf. The two figured out how to communicate with one another and ended the show as friends.

Omnium is more than just a circus; it’s an opportunity to bring people together.

“So much is dividing us; we have to find more of what unites us,” Lewis said.

An Interview with Tom Navratil

Posted on January 28, 2025

By  Sagun Shrestha

This article was originally published in The Washington Independent Review of Books here.

A satirical, behind-the-scenes look into the world of diplomatic relations and embassy woes, Tom Navratil’s debut novel, Dog’s Breakfast, depicts career ambitions coming to a head during a fierce battle of wits between a sardonic veteran envoy and a striving junior officer. Set in the U.S. embassy in the fictional country of Vodania, it features Andy Pulano, the ambassador’s second-in-command, who grows tired of being treated with less respect than the ambassador’s prized Labrador retriever and so hatches a series of schemes to undermine his superior. These efforts are jeopardized, however, with the arrival of junior officer Tara Zadani, who, while on doggie duty, discovers information that could put Andy’s entire operation at risk.

In a sea of nonfiction published by Washington insiders, what compelled you to write a satirical novel?

May Dog’s Breakfast float cheekily on that grim and foreboding sea like a bright red bathing suit abandoned by a skinny-dipper. The writing I did as a diplomat — aimed at both internal and external audiences — needed to be accurate, succinct, and persuasive. It was a satisfying and meaningful component of the job, but I felt no inclination to continue in a similar mode after I left. Instead, I wanted to have fun, unconstrained by facts and judicious analysis. I love creating stories without a dress code.

You describe Dog’s Breakfast as a “look at embassy follies and international intrigue.” How much of the novel is true to life, as opposed to embellished for the sake of entertainment?

I made up everything in Dog’s Breakfast, including the country where the story takes place. However, this book sprouted from the well-fertilized soil of my decades as a foreign-service officer. The portrayal of the organizational and social structure of an American embassy, the types of problems diplomats grapple with, the dynamic between Washington and the field, and so on, are all strongly grounded in State Department life as I experienced it. And I hope that, amidst the twists and pratfalls of a ridiculous story, I also tapped into emotional truths.

How does humor translate into a novel, as compared to in shorter-form pieces like the ones you’ve published on Medium and elsewhere?

A short humor piece gets plucked from the vine and served fresh; a novel is a season of feasts. (Let me know if I’m dishing up too many metaphors here.) For both, my goals are the same: to evoke insights and amusement. To work, they have to hold the reader’s attention and build towards something, with no room for padding in either form. I’d say the biggest difference is that a short piece needs to be funny, period, whereas a book-length comedy aims to achieve a tasty mix of drama and humor. It also offers vastly more scope for callbacks, inside jokes, and running gags, which I enjoyed sprinkling into Dog’s Breakfast.

How has your storytelling evolved over the course of your career?

Thank you for assuming it has. From some of my short humor, you could argue it has regressed to a more juvenile level. In any case, one clear change is a movement away from foreign-service stories. My second novel, currently undergoing revision, is a family drama with a diplomatic protagonist, but subsequent manuscripts do not feature a State Department setting. I’ve also noticed that the timelines keep getting shorter. I think I want my stories to inhabit their moment to the fullest.

Of all the exotic and outlandish animals you could’ve picked for the ambassador’s pet, which has a major role in the plot, what made you choose a chocolate Lab?

I love this question because it puts me in a bind. Without revealing anything prematurely, I can say two things. The ambassador’s pet had to be a dog, in keeping with — and in support of — the book’s title. And the reason for choosing that particular breed becomes clear near the very end of the story.

Art as a call to action: William Gropper’s bold critique resonates post-election

Posted on December 19, 2024

By Teniola Ayoola

This article was originally published in the DC Line here.

Did William Gropper leap into the future, or have we been pulled back into the past? Are we truly progressing as a society, or merely cycling through the same struggles in new forms? Seeing William Gropper: Artist of the People, a recently opened exhibition at The Phillips Collection, in the wake of the tumultuous 2024 presidential election feels less like a journey through history and more like staring into a mirror that reflects our own fractured reality. The content of Gropper’s provocative body of work — spanning painting, political cartoons and printmaking — remains strikingly relevant today. This 20th-century artist never softened his message to appease sensibilities or prioritize aesthetics. Instead, his art is deliberately unsettling, challenging viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about power, inequality, and the moral decay that perpetuates them.

Gropper (1897–1977) was born in New York City to Jewish immigrants. Though he distanced himself from religious Judaism as an adult, he used his art to confront antisemitism and speak out against the Nazi regime and the Holocaust. The death of his aunt in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911 sparked his lifelong advocacy for workers’ rights. His bold paintings, prints and cartoons tackled themes of racism, labor exploitation and the rise of fascism. A radical nonconformist even during his art education, Gropper’s dedication to using his craft as a tool for social change earned him the title “Artist of the People.”

Gropper’s approach in his political cartoons is vivid and direct — a kind of accountability rare in any era and increasingly rare today. Rather than resorting to “subs” or subliminal critiques, Gropper would “@” his targets directly if he were around now. His work speaks to our age of social media and polarized politics. Take Travel Companions (1936), where he positions U.S. Rep. William Lemke of North Dakota alongside Adolf Hitler and the antisemitic radio personality Father Coughlin. This is Gropper at his most confrontational, exposing alliances that he saw as challenging the very fabric of democracy. In Lincoln Observing Corrupt Politicians, Silver Shirts, and the KKK (1940), he places President Abraham Lincoln as a silent witness to fascist sympathizers like Coughlin and U.S. Rep. Martin Dies of Texas, his presence a reminder of what’s at stake when power is abused. By the time we reach We’re Just Crazy About Fascism (circa 1940), Gropper strips away all pretense, showing figures like Charles Lindbergh and William Randolph Hearst as unashamed proponents of fascism. The pieces don’t just critique — each one documents the moral battles of his time, giving viewers an unvarnished look at who held power and how they wielded it.

The moral battles of Gropper’s era echo seamlessly into ours, a point the exhibition underscores with insight: “Over half a century since their creation, Gropper’s work exposes universal human concerns, including the fragility of our democracy, which continue to persist,” Phillips Collection director and CEO Jonathan P. Binstock explains in a press release on the exhibition. Yet while strongly conveying Gropper’s timeless themes, the curators miss an opportunity to deepen this relevance. Making clear the contemporary parallels — perhaps by juxtaposing Gropper’s art with recent political cartoons or commentary on today’s authoritarian trends — would make the exhibition even more resonant. It is not enough to just display Gropper’s work. By linking specific works to our current socio-political climate, curators could emphasize the cyclical nature of the issues Gropper confronted, inviting viewers to consider his legacy as an urgent call to action.

One of the exhibition’s standout works, Congressional Declaration (1947), hits at the core of American hypocrisy. The post-World War II cartoon shows two politicians editing the Declaration of Independence, lifting a brush to add exclusions to the tenet of “all men are created equal” — except for “negroes,” “Jews,” “women” and other groups. Published in the magazine New Masses during the Red Scare, this work takes aim at America’s shaky relationship with its founding ideals, exposing how racism, sexism, antisemitism and anti-labor sentiments erode our democratic foundation. As the 2024 election cycle has shown, democracy demands vigilance, and Gropper’s message — that equality and justice are neither self-fulfilling nor self-perpetuating — could not feel more relevant.

Visually, Gropper’s use of black and white heightens his critique, creating images that strike harder than color could. Admittedly driven in many cases by the practicalities of mass printing, the stark contrast in his work reflects a binary Gropper saw between justice and injustice, power and the powerless. The lack of color doesn’t feel like a limitation but a strategic choice, amplifying each line and shadow. In Capriccios (1953–57), a series of 50 lithographs, the absence of color serves as an aesthetic and moral weight, forcing viewers to grapple with his subjects’ grotesque expressions, exaggerated gestures and the shadows that loom large, like the ideologies he opposes. It’s a message for today’s cartoonists: Sometimes, what’s left out speaks louder than what’s included.

The exhibition’s design is equally impactful. Separating Gropper’s monochromatic works from his few color pieces creates a powerful contrast that accentuates the scope of his vision. After immersing ourselves in the severity of black and white, we encounter Construction of the Dam (1938), in which Gropper uses color sparingly yet purposefully. A study for a mural at the U.S. Department of the Interior headquarters, it portrays Black and white workers laboring together on a Works Progress Administration project, an image of unity that stood against the norms of segregation. Here, color doesn’t distract from — it amplifies — Gropper’s vision of inclusion and equality. His rare use of color underscores his critique of an exclusionary society, showing that even mundane choices can carry political weight.

Ultimately, William Gropper: Artist of the People offers more than an art exhibition; it’s a rallying cry that resonates with the urgency of our current political moment. While Oscar Wilde’s essay The Critic as Artist may argue for critique that beautifies, Gropper transforms critique into a demand for justice. His works compel us not only to recognize society’s flaws but to address them — a call that feels especially relevant as we face the divisive climate in the aftermath of the 2024 election. With its unfiltered lines and relentless satire, Gropper’s art wields a lance against complacency, daring us to confront societal failures head-on. This exhibition reminds us: The loudest statements are often made by what’s stripped away.

William Gropper: Artist of the People at The Phillips Collection opened Oct. 17 and continues through Jan. 5. The museum is located at 1600 21st St. NW.

From Murals to Martial Arts: New Smithsonian Exhibit Reflects on Chinatown’s History and Asian American Influence in DC

Posted on November 19, 2024

By Teniola Ayoola

This article was originally published in The DC Line here.

At most art museums, visitors typically view and admire the final product, with few opportunities to witness the creative process or the heavy lifting that occurs behind the scenes. However, Sightlines: Chinatown and Beyond, the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center’s first museum exhibition in 10 years, invites viewers on a journey that peels back and examines the multilayered impact Asian Americans have had on the District over many generations. This exploration unfolds through murals, archival documents and martial arts. One leaves with the understanding that while DC’s Chinatown, as it once existed, may have been fleeting, its spirit — the Asian American zeitgeist — remains vibrant.

The exhibit at the Smithsonian American Art Museum consists of three sections: Making Place, Transforming Tradition, and Visualizing Identity. Each section emphasizes “the vital role Asian Americans have played in shaping the communities, landscapes, and cultures in Washington, DC,” according to the Smithsonian. With over 120 artifacts on display, the collection could benefit from some thoughtful curation, trimming down the selection to allow guests to fully engage with the pieces. Despite the overwhelming number of artifacts, a few standout pieces effectively convey the exhibit’s message.

A highlight is the depiction of first-generation Indonesian-American muralist Cita Sadeli, known as “Miss CheLove.” The tools she used to create several murals around the city — painting shoes, aerosol nozzles and crates of spray paint — are more than mere artifacts: They create intimacy and connection with her artistic journey, inviting the viewer to join in her creative process. An especially poignant image, Julian Peterson’s photograph The Artist Working on She Got We (2022) shows Miss CheLove precariously balanced on an aerial lift, painting the word “Enny” onto a design board. This four-letter tribute to her late mother, who emigrated from Indonesia as a Fulbright scholar, serves as a touching reminder of the sacrifices and stories that have shaped Asian American immigrant identity.

Through murals such as Every Day I See Something New (2011), Miss CheLove successfully transforms the streets into a canvas for collective memory, celebrating the richness of diverse voices and reflecting on social movements while incorporating elements of the city’s cultural essence. However, in DC Stands United Against Hate (2020), created in response to George Floyd’s murder, her decision to render this mural in black and white — rather than the vibrant colors typical of graffiti or other street art — raises questions. While the monochromatic palette may convey the solemnity of the subject, it could also allude to the philosophy of colorblindness, which seeks to overlook race but often perpetuates racial inequity.

The bulk of the exhibit focuses primarily on the repeated — but decidedly uneven — “historical efforts to heighten Chinatown’s visibility” even at times of tremendous change and disruption. Due to beautification projects in the National Mall and Federal Triangle areas in the early 1930s, Chinese residents were forcibly relocated from their original neighborhood along Pennsylvania Avenue NW, creating what has long considered DC’s Chinatown, specifically the area along H Street between 5th and 7th streets NW. Later, the construction of Capital One Arena in the 1990s fueled gentrification and led to further displacement of many Chinese residents. In the 2000s, some local business groups unsuccessfully sought to rebrand the area from “Chinatown” to “East End.”

The anchor piece of the exhibition, Terrence Nicholson’s Safety Jacket: A Mourning in Chinatown (2018), reflects the ongoing changes in Chinatown. In this mixed-media work, the African American artist expressed his grief over the eviction of the Wah Sing Kung Fu School by creating a kung fu jacket from martial arts sashes. The jacket’s resemblance to a scarecrow — usually used to keep birds away from crops — invites speculation: Is it meant as a deliberate symbol of protection, loss and deterrence, or is it just a coincidence? The ambiguity adds depth to the narrative of displacement and cultural erosion.

Archival materials, such as a March 1977 document titled “The Chinatown Program — A Progress Report,” and Washington Post clippings published a decade later, highlight the community’s proactive efforts — not merely protests and discussions, but organized meetings with clear agendas and participants invested in Chinatown’s future.

Unfortunately, while exploring a connection that does exist, the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center’s exhibit crams the topics of Chinatown’s long, hard-fought history and the influence of Asian Americans like Miss CheLove into an unbalanced whole. These two significant topics would benefit from separate explorations, allowing visitors to learn about the impact of Asian Americans in modern times and delve into Chinatown’s past, present and future independently.

That said, the audio-visual elements of the exhibit are truly captivating. The rhythmic drumming of a Chinatown festival band reverberates throughout the space, instilling a sense of urgency and vitality that complements the images of karate chops, kicks and precision movements. These visuals depict the lineage of martial arts practices in Chinatown from the 1930s to today. Rows of trophies from the DC martial arts group Simba Dojang (founded by an African American) illustrate the impact of Chinese martial arts not only within the community but also across different racial groups.

In the end, this exhibition compels us to reflect on the duality of progress and preservation. It reminds us not only of Chinatown’s history but also of the vibrant contributions of Asian Americans like Miss CheLove. Although these topics might better be explored separately, the dynamic interplay of art, history and identity serves as a powerful reminder that the voices and experiences of Asian Americans are not just footnotes in DC history; they are integral to the ongoing shaping and reshaping of the area’s cultural identity.

The Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center’s exhibition Sightlines: Chinatown and Beyond opened Sept. 7, 2024, and continues through Nov. 25, 2025, at the Smithsonian American Art Museum at 8th and G streets NW.

Author Q and A with Joel Looper, Another Gospel

Posted on November 5, 2024

By Oluseyi Akinyode

This article was originally published in Washington Independent Review of Books here.

As Election Day looms, have you pondered why Donald Trump so strongly appeals to Evangelical Christians and the far Right in America? Well, so has Joel Looper. In his new book, Another Gospel: Christian Nationalism and the Crisis of Evangelical Identity, he traces the roots of evangelicalism to colonial America, revealing how the movement’s cultural identity became enmeshed in national politics. Looper also examines the Christian mandate as modeled by the early church, arguing that, at its core, the Gospel is about witnessing Jesus Christ through the way we live our lives. An adjunct professor at Baylor University and coordinator for Shalom Mission Communities, a network of international Christian communities, Looper is also the author of Bonhoeffer’s America: A Land Without Reformation.

What personal experiences did you draw on while writing Another Gospel, and how did these shape the themes you explored?

I’m a Christian who continues to cling white-knuckled to the label “evangelical.” Whether I should or not is another matter, of course. One of the reasons I do is that the term evangelical actually means “gospel” or, better, “gospel-oriented person.” However, many people outside the movement, Christians and non-Christians, look at conservative evangelicals and at the Jesus of the New Testament, and they say, “Huh? How did you get here from there?”

I’ve had similar moments with evangelicals. One guy I know well — an extraordinarily generous man who would take an undocumented person into his home if he knew them and that they were in trouble. This same guy trumpets Trump’s nonsense claims about Haitian immigrants eating pets and worries aloud that immigrants are ruining the country. He’s hardly unique, obviously. I know dozens of others like him.

During the pandemic, many evangelicals like this man were terrified by lockdowns and mandatory masking, fearful that their rights were being taken away — even as more than one in 300 Americans died [of covid-19]. Even if I came to think the federal response was seriously misguided at certain times, this sort of reaction seriously disturbed me. Experiences like these convinced me that many, though not all, evangelicals aren’t being guided by Scripture or the commands of Jesus. And that realization was the seed of this book.

Given the upcoming election, how do you hope readers will engage with the book’s themes?

It’ll hardly surprise readers that I’m concerned about the election. I do think that Donald Trump represents a threat to our democratic republic. As a Christian, I’m even more concerned about what support for Trump has done to the church’s reputation. My hope is that, whether my name is attached to it or not, people will think about the book’s primary thesis — that Christian nationalism is a false gospel (Galatians 1:6). And, once they’ve mulled it over, that they would put it in their own words, discuss it, preach it, and get it out into the ether before November 5th. Perhaps the actuality of Christians putting Trump back in office won’t be another stumbling block to add to the pile we [as evangelical Christians] already have.

You argue that many Evangelical Christians are holding onto an idealized American way of life rather than living out the values modeled by Jesus Christ. How does this perspective help us understand Trump’s appeal within this community?

Many evangelicals fear that they’re about to lose the American way of life you’re referring to. Some of this is because of the LGBTQ movement — a long and complicated story for another day. Then Trump comes along and says again and again, “I will protect you,” “I’m standing in their way,” and “I’m the only one who can save you.” Evangelical Trump voters either don’t care or haven’t grasped that this Faustian bargain has scandalized millions, many of whom used to call themselves evangelical.

A key argument in Another Gospel is that Christian Nationalism is rooted in the nation’s colonizing of the church, not vice versa. Why is this a crucial point for readers to grasp?

Think about the kind of community envisioned in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. It’s supposed to be a “city on a hill” — but it’s not America. This city operates like no other polity that humanity has ever encountered. People would have to change dramatically for the better to live this way.

Therefore, attempts to turn Jesus’ ethics into public morality is a fool’s errand. Human societies just aren’t capable of it. There is a name for this inability to do so in the Abrahamic faith: It’s called sin. To live out what Jesus is talking about, we need a different sort of polity in which people are enabled by God to live the kind of life Jesus spoke about. The New Testament calls that polity the church. So, the church is supposed to have a very different existence from the nation.

When Christian nationalists try to take America back for God (to use Samuel L. Perry and Andrew L. Whitehead’s language), the result is that the church ends up becoming obsessed with national concerns rather than living this different sort of life. They baptize American culture and allow Machiavellian political maneuvers as means to supposedly righteous ends. But it just won’t work. America isn’t baptize-able, and neither is any other nation. Even if the church were spiritually in shape enough to “Christianize” America, America isn’t Christianize-able. Instead, the nation and its politics have shaped the church’s life. As I shared in Another Gospel, the nation has colonized the church, not the reverse. That is Christian nationalism.

You note that rising Christian nationalism often coincides with declining church attendance. How might this trend impact the future of the evangelical church in America?

I think the future of the evangelical church in America is bleak, numerically speaking. Fundamentally, the gospel that many evangelicals believe in has left them with no reason to go to church. If the Christian life is an individual pursuit where the aim is to go to heaven when you die, and the Christian character is primarily geared towards “owning the libs,” why do you need church for that? You don’t, at least in the long run. Again, this is true for many evangelicals but not for all.

So far, what has been the response to Another Gospel among the evangelical community? Has any of the feedback surprised you?

Some have been enthusiastic. Ralph Wood’s review in Christianity Today is one example. But then there are friends — and, really, extended family — who went into attack mode before the book had reached the shelves. The vitriol I got from some of them really did surprise me. Saying, “Read the book!” or “Okay, can we have a conversation, look at Scripture, think about this together?” has gotten me nowhere with most of them.

Queen of Harlem Renaissance comes alive in Essential Theatre’s ‘Zora’

Posted on October 1, 2024

By Isaac Welch

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

In 2004, DC’s Essential Theatre began its Women’s Works Program, to celebrate, cultivate, and explore the achievements of women throughout history and to highlight their contributions in theater arts and other facets of our world. Every year, the program sets out to present one show dedicated to this cause, offering a production that is for, by, or about women. This year’s work, showing at Anacostia Arts Center in Southeast DC, is Laurence Holder’s Zora, the namesake title explicating the legacy of Zora Neale Hurston, figurehead of the Harlem Renaissance. Director S. Robert Morgan and Assistant Director Youri Kim bring to this small theater a production high in amplitude. Though carried on the shoulders of only two actors, the presence of those who contributed to the greater movement of the Harlem Renaissance, and the legacy of Hurston, is brought through in honor and grace.

As the play begins, we find Hurston, played by Kecia Deroly, between stops as she embarks by train from Harlem, New York, back to her hometown of Eatonville, Florida. Despite her achievement as a literary pillar amid the great flourishing swell of African American arts and intellectualism, she is forced to sit in a filthy and unkempt waiting room labeled “coloreds only” as she awaits her carriage. This setting, brought to life by Tiffani Syndor, brings to the audience a jarring reminder of the environments created in this segregationist period, and discrepancies realized through separate but equal doctrine in a detailed and concisely constructed stage.

From here Hurston begins to recount her journey, and from here audiences are made unable to ignore the weight of her contributions as her will for the better living of Black Americans is found in direct contrast to the institutions she must trudge through to meet her destiny. Stepping on to this stage, to tell this story of Hurston’s legacy, Deroly brings every ounce of charisma one could ask for. Throughout the play she is found standing firmly, coursing her body in triumphant rhythm to music and recited poetics, and allowing tenors and altos to ring out when her call comes to sing. Her temperament is appropriately Hurston’s as her act embodies the attitudes of defiance and unabashedness that are threaded throughout her work, and hardly misses a beat as she makes the stage her own. Ever as quickly, by the drop of a needle set to a groove, she is met by her counterpart, played by Harry Denby III, as she reminisces the first in her story of love. As the vinyl crackles and sputters in crossfaded transition, Hurston is set in a flashback and has taken the audience with her with the same speed and suddenness that memories of past love are known to sail in on.

Denby III supplements the role of the men pivotal to her life story, from her fellow wordsmith Langston Hughes to her mentor then turncoat Alain Locke. Denby’s remarkable ability to shapeshift the demeanor and gesticulate habits of each role while maintaining a certain relatedness to Deroly keeps his every appearance in the production fresh and memorable. Throughout the production, Deroly and Denby III recite real poems and perform original works authored by the roles they represent. In doing so, this cast of two actively fulfills the vision of the future that Hurston and her constituents maintained in their contributions to the Harlem Renaissance. In this way, the production serves less as mere homage to Hurston’s legacy, and more of a living and breathing re-animation of her spirit, complementing the surrounding zeitgeist and bringing greater worthiness to her personal tribulations.

Another unique aspect of this production is its use of Hurston’s works and personal journey. In recalling Hurston’s explorations in her life and in her literary works, the production not only marks a timeline, but further examines the phenomena identified and questions posed by her intrigue as it recalls the societal exposures she broke ground on, proving them relevant still. As the reception of her works was inevitably influenced by her being a Black woman, Hurston’s present-day narration, as proclaimed through Deroly, allows the audience to understand her perspective without the tint of misogynoir. Additionally, the production does not shy away from discussing some of the controversies that shaded Hurston’s career, and uses these moments as a means to allow Hurston to defend her name by providing information and perspectives that may have been hushed under the headlines that accused her. Audiences will leave this production knowing Hurston better than they once did.

As a biopic production, this work may serve as a fascinating introduction to “The Queen” of the Harlem Renaissance, but is best targeted to those already familiar with Hurston and what she represents in the canon of Black American literary work. Regardless, whether they know Zora Neale Hurston devotedly as their favored author, or as only a name introduced in a long-forgotten history class, patrons should know that when they come to see Essential Theatre’s Zora, they will witness a pure display of talent and an unrelenting passion in performance that echoes the very sentiments that brought air to the Harlem Renaissance. They will witness a remittal of Black excellence in living affirmation of what was and always will be, as Deroly and Denby perform and chant together affirmations of Afrocentricism, and they will leave reminded of the generational impact left by written word and daring spirit, such as those we remember Zora Neale Hurston for.

For Mosaic’s ‘Lady Day,’ Roz White transforms into Billie Holiday in a captivating performance

Posted on September 27, 2024

By Teniola Ayoola

This article was originally published in The DC Line here.

She riffed about parole officers, sang to white audiences about racial injustice, and used cuss words as adjectives — that’s Billie Holiday, compellingly reincarnated with fresh depth and dynamism in Mosaic Theater Company’s production of Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill. Written by Lanie Robertson, the play has been staged on and off Broadway since its 1986 premiere. It now graces Mosaic’s 10th anniversary season under the direction of Reginald L. Douglas, featuring a stellar cast and band.

Before she gained fame as Billie Holiday, she was Eleanora Fagan, born in 1915 to a jazz guitarist father and a teenage mother. Despite a turbulent childhood, Holiday rose to stardom as a jazz singer between 1935 and 1941, touring across the United States without formal technical training or the ability to read music. Faced with legal troubles and periods of incarceration due to drug use, Holiday still went on to become the first Black woman to perform with an all-white band and grew increasingly vocal about social issues and injustices of her time. 

In Lady Day, Roz White, the star of the evening, commands the stage with a charisma that channels Holiday’s legendary presence. From her dramatic entrance — where she misses her cue, makes us wait, and appears only after a fitting introduction and applause — to the final poignant notes, White’s portrayal is magnetic. Dressed to the nines by costume designer Moyenda Kulemeka in a striking white dress with Holiday’s signature elbow-length white gloves, a mink fur stole, and green slingback pumps, she sets the tone for a performance that blends meticulous craftsmanship with raw emotion.

White, known for her roles in Bessie’s Blues at Alexandria’s MetroStage as well as Broadway national tours such as TINA:The Tina Turner Musical and Dreamgirls, has a voice that effortlessly navigates through jazz standards like “What a Little Moonlight Can Do,” “Easy Livin’,” and “T’ain’t Nobody’s Business if I Do.” Her voice showcases both her vocal prowess and deep connection to the material. In “Gimme a Pigfoot (and a Bottle of Beer),” her interaction with the audience — stepping off the stage and engaging directly — adds a visceral, immersive quality to the performance, though one wishes she would have worked more of the room than just the front row. Her rendition of “Strange Fruit” is particularly haunting, with White’s intense gaze and physicality vividly evoking the pain, lynchings and injustice captured in the song’s powerful lyrics.

Douglas selected an ideal actor to bring Robertson’s script to life. Though White sometimes struggles with pacing in her dialogue (lacking the pauses and inflections that convey a natural, in-the-moment flow of thought and speech), she excels in nailing punchlines and holding an audience at rapt attention. Her recounting of Holiday’s personal stories — such as getting her first job, confronting legal troubles and racial discrimination, and receiving news of her father’s death — highlights her ability to weave humor and gravity seamlessly, so much that White gives the impression of being an even better storyteller than she is a singer. 

In the second half of the show, White delves into Holiday’s darker moments with a remarkable authenticity that elicits empathy and reflection. Her portrayal of Holiday in a state of stupor and disarray — marked by slurred speech, staggering movements and near-mishaps — brings a raw quality to the performance. The performance reaches its climax with a poignant rendition of “Deep Song,” featuring the lyrics “I only know misery has to be part of me,” before slowly fading into darkness.

Lighter aspects of this otherwise downcast production include the blues break with standout performances. A five-time Helen Hayes nominee for musical direction, William Knowles (acting the role of Holiday’s accompanist in her later years, Jimmy Powers) plays with masterful dexterity while hunched over the piano. Drummer Greg Holloway delivers a captivating solo on par with bassist Mark Saltman’s earlier one at the start of the show. 

The stage, though compact, is effectively utilized with a masterful set design by Nadir Bey that features a retro “Emerson’s Bar and Grill” sign. The lighting by Jesse Belsky enhances the show’s emotional shifts. 

Overall, Mosaic’s Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill is a memorable tribute to Billie Holiday. Blending powerful performances, evocative storytelling and a richly atmospheric setting, it serves as a reminder of the enduring impact she left on jazz despite the hardships she faced.