Sit Back and Rewind

Taking the arts of 2004 one moment at a time.

One moment, please. That's what we asked our arts critics to consider over the last few weeks. What particular part of an exhibition, performance or play rose above the rest? What actor or dancer made you happy to be a critic in Philadelphia? What moment was the most meaningful?

A few writers chose two moments. What does that say about the city's arts scene this year?

Baritone Matthias Goerne is one of those singers who transforms his whole being into a musical instrument when he performs. In his rendition of Gustav Mahler's meltingly beautiful "Rückert Lieder" in March, the music seemed to radiate from his fingers and toes, as well as from his lungs. His lithe body vibrated sensuously in harmony with the gossamer score. This was an inspirational highlight, so far, of Christoph Eschenbach's superb, ongoing Mahler Festival with The Philadelphia Orchestra.
--Peter Burwasser

Tania Isaac's home is where i am

Theatrical "identity" pieces are frequently so self-indulgent that one wants to tell the performer, "Get over yourself, honey." Tania Isaac's home is where i am was a pleasant exception. An intensely personal production addressing this West Indies-born dancer-choreographer's immigrant experience, the program presented lively perceptions in terms most anyone could relate to. One of the shinier gems was "three ways to eat a ripe mango," where the simple act of eating a piece of fruit provided commentary on cultural differences with incisive wit.
--Deni Kasrel

The Pearl Fishers

Both looking drop-dead gorgeous as slinkily clothed, clandestine Sri Lankan sweethearts, local favorites soprano Mary Dunleavy and tenor William Burden aced the "other" duet from The Pearl Fishers at the Opera Company in April: not the "buddy bonding" one that shows up on every televised gala but "Ton coeur n'a pas compris le mien," the sad-to-joyous meeting of the reunited lovers feeling their way back to understanding through some of the most ravishingly beautiful music Bizet ever wrote. Designer Boyd Ostroff's stunning evocation of the tropics helped set the romantic mood.
--David Shengold

My moment in Gallery Joe's vault space in early summer with Josephine Taylor's Mummy was particularly moving. Taylor's huge drawing of a floating female figure swaddled in exquisite patterned fabrics was created with diluted colored ink and pencil on a vast expanse of white paper. The effect of the piece on me was beguiling, sobering and chilling — and left a dry, mineral aftertaste that I will never forget.
--Susan Hagen

Adam Cvijanovic's Ideal City

Adam Cvijanovic's stunning mural Ideal City depicts a block of Osage Avenue before it was firebombed by the city in 1985. It is perhaps the most effective use of the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts' Morris Gallery ever. Cvijanovic's shifting, life-scale, one-point perspective is uncannily devoid of sentient life. Never before have I ever realized so forcefully that masterful illusionistic painting embodies the truth that commonplace daily reality is doomed — if not to violence, eventually to time itself.
--Robin Rice

Christopher Wheeldon's Swan Lake

Roy Kaiser had thrown caution to the wind. The Pennsylvania Ballet's artistic director unleashed Christopher Wheeldon, touted as the new Balanchine, to create whatever he wanted for Pennsylvania Ballet's "reimagined" Swan Lake, and then, at the Academy of Music, what seemed like half the world was rising to its feet to shout, "Bravo!" Wheeldon used Kaiser's go-ahead to produce a quirky yet classic Swan in which every dancer from seasoned principals (Alexei Borovik) to young apprentices (Jermel Johnson) looked sensational. With the Dance Critics Association meeting here at the same time and filling up aisle seats at every performance, this great moment had national and international legs.
--Janet Anderson

It's harder and harder these days to elicit shock or attention from listeners when discussing prostitution, but two writers this year made it their mission: wiry, physical narrator David Henry Sterry, who performed tales from his life as a college dropout rent-boy in L.A., and down-to-earth wit Michelle Tea, whose firmly planted beliefs in equality and feminism shielded her from the sadness of her job sleeping with men for money even as those beliefs took a big hit. They performed on one bill, a brilliant point-counterpoint during the Blue Sky Arts First Person Festival, and through it all, the audience's shoulders would bob, some with forceful belly laughs and some with silent almost-sobs.
--Juliet Fletcher

It's the press preview for "African Art, African Voices: Long Steps Never Broke a Back" at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. After touring the many-layered exhibition of evolving traditions of African art, I settle down to watch large-screen projections of dancing. Most of my bench is occupied by men in African dress. I am enchanted by their high-spirited critique in Yoruban and have the illusion that I share their gleeful approval of a bravura performance by a boy, the youngest dancer in the video. Later I discover my seatmates are the adult performers in the video, laughing at themselves.
--Robin Rice

The Rosenbach Company: A Tragicomedy

Celebrating the elegant, arcane Rosenbach Museum, The Rosenbach Company: A Tragi- comedy was the highlight of the Fringe Festival in September. This chamber rock opera by Mark Mulcahy, sung by three haunting voices backed by four virtuosic musicians and illustrated by projections of Ben Katchor's wonderful drawings, was also was one of the finest shows of the season. The show ends with a lovely and funny ballad — an oddly great and greatly odd moment in musical theater: the lyrics announcing the museum's hours and the rules of the rare book room ("pencils only").
--Toby Zinman

A natural retort to those friends of ours (you know who you are!) who said again this year, "the Fringe is all about nudity," Richard Maxwell's Showcase went about proving them right. Visiting businessman Jim psyches himself up for his big meeting by strutting around his hotel room naked, while we sit on the bed and watch as his shadow (played by a body-socked actor) attempts to keep up. Performed in such confined quarters, the show was really more about consciousness and conscience — how we remember what we just did and what keeps us from doing wrong when no one's watching — but I swear it gave those avant-garde theater-oglers something to think about for 30 minutes.
--Juliet Fletcher

One steamy September afternoon during the Fringe, about two dozen people filed into an old garage on New Street: The circus was coming to town. No Barnum, no Bailey, just Apparatus Collective performing awesome, joyous trapeze work, bolstered by innovative sets and a whimsical sense of humor. The best of the big top? Valentine Aprile and Janette Hough-Fertig's duet to Queen's theme for Flash Gordon. Sharing a swing, the two tugged, twirled, giggled and rock-starred their way over and around each other. I'd be surprised if the entire audience didn't want to run away and join the circus.
--Lori Hill

The life and work of Rebecca Westcott

Philly lost one of the most talented of its young, innovative artists in October. Space 1026 recalled the life, spirit and work of Pew-winning painter Rebecca Westcott with an all-day exhibition and memorial. Tucked away in one corner, Westcott's husband, artist Jim Houser, installed a deeply moving tribute to her in the form of photos, his wedding toast, a pair of her paint-splattered pants, and most importantly, her artwork. Houser let his utterly personal message transcend his grief, allowing Westcott's many admirers to see how much he loved her, too.
--Lori Hill

Steven Dietz's superb and funny play, Last of the Boys, which premiered at McCarter Theatre in Princeton last fall, is about two beat-up Vietnam vets. Dietz clearly draws a parallel between the war in Vietnam and the war in Iraq: "What's the plan?" echoes through the play and through the years. The final wrenching image of one of the "boys" standing at an ironing board, pressing an American flag, evokes a kind of anguished patriotism: If only we could get the wrinkles out.
--Toby Zinman

The exhibit that spoke to me the most this year was Donna Rosenthal's "Lovers and Warriors" at the Wexler Gallery. It's a series of intricate, wire-mesh sculptures of little girls' dresses with subversive, ironic, embedded messages about gender roles, like A Big Diamond Ring and A Wealthy Husband. It's a nod to feminist theory and social criticism, too seldom seen in modern art today. Many of the artworks were in somber black with flaming pink script. I ate up every phrase on each sculpture, finding solace that I wasn't the only one outraged with the expectations placed upon today's women.
--Helen i-lin Hwang