>> JARED BOWEN: I'm Jared Bowen.

Coming up on Open Studio, Bartok's only opera, Bluebeard's Castle.

Enter if you dare.

Then, artist Katherine Bradford.

As a painter, she's a people person.

>> I started out as an abstract painter, using shapes, a lot of circles and squares, and I realized that I could make those into people.

>> BOWEN: And how restoring a mural also means restoring a commitment to race relations.

It's all now on Open Studio.

♪ ♪ First up, renowned director Anne Bogart reboots Bartok's only opera, Bluebeard's Castle, for Boston Lyric Opera, teaming it with work by 19th century composer Alma Mahler.

Staging the production inside a cruise ship terminal in South Boston, Bogart says her Bluebeard's Castle is a psychological thriller and an immersive experience that rides the waves and plunges the depths of human emotion.

Anne Bogart, such a pleasure to have you here.

>> I'm so happy to see you again.

(Bowen chuckles) We met a couple of years ago.

>> BOWEN: We did; we had a public talk about Handmaid's Tale.

>> Yeah.

>> BOWEN: So let's talk about Bluebeard's Castle.

For people not familiar with this piece, it's a Duke... Duke Bluebeard brings his wife Judith home to his castle, the latest of several wives.

Nothing good ever happens in a castle, I think we've learned.

(laughs) So go.

>> You know, I realized the other day, if you've ever seen either the movie or read the book Rebecca, which is-- it's the same story.

You know, in the story Rebecca, this young lady meets a handsome man, falls in love.

He seems perfectly fine.

And she goes-- they get married.

They go to (dramatic voice): Manderley... (both chuckle) Which is a house on an ocean, and it's-- she finds out all the dark things about him.

It's the same story, but it's also a story that's been told for hundreds, if not thousands of years.

It's related to fairy tales, the Grimms' fairy tale, but not even just Eurocentric.

There's Asian fairy tales.

It's this preternatural story of a young woman who follows an older man and discovers his dark sides.

And, it's... and then Bartok wrote this opera.

It's actually his only opera.

And it's a stunner.

It's... you know, I'm not a musician myself, but I, of course, did a lot of research.

It turns out that all the, the really big people in music say this is maybe the best opera ever written.

>> BOWEN: Oh.

>> Yes, I know The music, they love it.

The funny thing, though, is I listened to a... interview with Esa-Pekka Salonen, the great conductor, who said, yes, this is his favorite opera.

But, of course, in it nobody moves.

(laughing): And I laughed, because our... our production has so much movement.

>> BOWEN: Well, I want to ask you about this.

It's billed as an immersive psychological thriller.

This is happening at the, the cruise ship terminal in South Boston.

How, how are you using that space?

>> Yeah, you know, the first time I saw the space, B.L.O.-- Boston Lyric Opera-- found it, and they said, "Come and look at it."

So I drove up from New York City, and... and I walked in, and I saw this huge escalator with the words "to the ship" on it.

And I said, "I'm in!"

(Bowen laughs) Because it was already... Because it was already an adventure, just to go there.

So you go up the elevator, and there's this vast space.

So we're turning it into a, a journey for an audience.

You're invited into this tale through the... the Four Song cycle of Alma Mahler.

She was a woman who lived in, in the same time as Bartok in Vienna, and every man in Vienna was in love with her.

And she married not only Gustav Mahler, but she had love relationships with Egon Schiele, the painter, Gustav Klimt, Kokoschka.

Basically every famous man you can imagine.

People were obsessed with her.

But the problem with her was, is that every time she got involved with a man, usually a famous artist, she sublimated her own work because the man didn't want her to.

This seems so close to the story of Bluebeard.

You enter into this relationship and, and his toxic masculinity kind of kills her, literally.

Well, we've turned this around, and I'm not going to tell you how, but you have to come and see, because there is a bit of revenge in here for the women, in the way we're taking it.

>> BOWEN: Well, I will see and experience it firsthand; my tickets are already booked.

And I choose the word "experience" very deliberately.

And I notice the active verbs that you're using.

What does it do for the audience to, to move through this piece and not just passively, necessarily, sit in seats and take it in?

>> You know, I think this has to do with COVID, but I have a dear friend, named Leon Ingulsrud, who was a part of my company, and post-COVID, he went to see a play and I said, "How was it?"

And he said, "Eh, not so good."

And I said, "Why?"

And he said, "Well, the actors never said hello to the audience."

And I thought, that's so interesting, that we live in a time where we need to feel part of the experience.

It's not literally that an actor has to look at an audience member and say, "Hello, I'm glad you're there..." (Bowen chuckles) But to feel included, and the idea of something behind glass or something that's removed, where the fourth wall right now doesn't work.

And so we've created an experience where we are-- the audience is enveloping and we're enveloping them in this story and this glorious music.

>> ♪ You must give me all the keys now ♪ ♪ You must give me all the keys now ♪ ♪ We must open every door ♪ (operatic trill) ♪ All the doors ♪ >> ♪ Tell me, Judith, why you want this ♪ >> ♪ Because I love you ♪ >> And I think this aspect of male-female sexuality, which I think is endlessly interesting.

>> BOWEN: Well, I want to switch gears for a second.

In your book, The Art of Resonance, You write about something that occurred to you-- you made me feel better about myself, actually, because you write about, so many people walk away or... can kind of come up to you and they can tell you about something specific they saw in theater 30 years ago... >> Yes.

>> BOWEN: Or they can recite whole passages of books.

I am not somebody who can do that.

And you talk about this in your book... >> Mm-hmm.

>> BOWEN: That there were-- we almost feel that there's some responsibility to, to have our memory so acutely aware and sustained after experiencing the performing arts or reading.

>> Mm.

>> BOWEN: But why don't we need to do that necessarily?

>> The Art of Resonance, which is a book I wrote over COVID, but it started when I, when I learned that neuroscientists say that, that memory is actually a protein.

Now, I'm going to speak it in far too simplistic terms, but that memory is created-- like strong memories are created through emotion, and the heat of the emotion creates an action in the brain that actually creates a protein in the brain.

And so when you remember something, there are synaptic activities that go to re-meet that protein, and, of course, as we know, the act of remembering changes the memory every time.

But the thought that actually what we do in the theater or in the opera is, our job is to create memories.

You know, how many times have you gone to see a show and you walk out and you've already forgotten it?

>> BOWEN: Mm.

>> What about those times when there's something about something you saw that haunts you still?

I would say that is a successful production, so that the success of a production depends on the amount of literally proteins in the audience's brain that you've created through an interaction with what you've presented.

So, that seems pretty noble to me, you know, so memory, you know, is, is... it is actually the resonance that is set up in the body, is created by the heat and the goosebumps that you get from having an experience.

>> BOWEN: I can tell you... (Bogart coughs) My most specific memories in the theater have been the times I've cried.

There haven't been very many of those times, maybe two or three.

>> That's heat, and that's certainly resonance.

And, you know... actually the same person I mentioned earlier, Leon Ingulsrud's mother had Alzheimer's, and I had always said, "Oh, theater-- "theater is about remembering "to remember something, to put it back together again."

And he said, "What about people who don't have memories?"

And I thought-- I had to think about it, because it's a good question.

And I thought, actually, I read a lot.

But if you asked me today about a book I read last week, I've probably forgotten the title.

I've forgotten what I learned from it.

What I realized is while I was reading, something happened.

Tears welled up or something changed in me.

So it doesn't matter so much maybe that you remember specifically-- I'm contradicting myself now about memory, but, but that it sets up a resonance which changes the chemistry of the body.

It's huge, right?

>> BOWEN: It's epic.

And you've put the science behind something that has concerned me about myself for so long.

Well, it's always a pleasure to speak with you.

I just love my time with you.

Anne Bogart, thank you.

>> Such a pleasure.

And thank you for your excellent probing questions.

(Bowen chuckles) ♪ ♪ >> BOWEN: Next, we continue to mark Women's History Month with Katherine Bradford.

In 2021, Bradford won the prestigious Rappaport Prize, which is given annually to a contemporary artist with strong New England ties and a remarkable record of achievement.

We bring you a conversation I first had with Bradford in 2021, when her paintings were on view at the Carpenter Center for the Visual Arts at Harvard.

Katherine Bradford, thank you so much for being with us.

>> I'm so glad to be here.

>> BOWEN: A lot of the work that we see... First of all, congratulations on the Rappaport Prize.

>> Thank you.

>> BOWEN: But speaking of the exhibition at the Carpenter right now, a lot of the work we see, all of the work that we see, is just from the last few years.

We see very intimate relationships.

And is that an... How much of that is an interior exploration on your part?

>> I started out as an abstract painter using shapes, a lot of circles and squares, and I realized that I could make those into people.

And so I kind of built human beings.

And my next step was to have them interact.

It became a little more charged as a painting, to have them touching each other, holding hands.

That interested me.

I got a psychological element into my paintings, which hadn't been there before.

>> BOWEN: What brought that about?

>> My own yearning to go forward as an artist and do something which I hadn't done before.

>> BOWEN: I was quite struck to learn that you made a path for yourself in painting at the age of 30, which a lot of people would consider very late.

What, what led you to that point?

>> You know, for my generation of women, what, what we were led to expect was to get married and have children.

In my high school, very few of my classmates prepared themselves for a career.

So, to have a serious profession was not something I thought about a lot.

At the time, I was, I was married to a very ambitious man and happy to be his support wife, shall we say.

>> BOWEN: And then you decided that was not the life for you.

Where did that conviction come from?

>> It wasn't, it wasn't an overnight decision.

It came about slowly and with the support of a community that I became closer and closer to.

And with the realization that although I did, I was raising two young children, that I could perhaps do something else.

>> BOWEN: And you moved to New York, and what cracked open for you there?

Did it crack open?

>> So I was a single mother by that point; I'd gotten divorced.

And... looking back on it, it was pretty much of a gamble to move to New York to be an artist.

I had very low jobs, teaching English as a second language.

I eventually got an MFA when I was in my 40s.

I eventually made friends with other artists and began showing my work there.

I mean, you know, each step was very exciting, I felt.

"Oh, I met someone today who was actually nice to me."

Or, "I..." (both chuckle) "I sold a small painting to someone who didn't even know me."

All those things began to add up, and I, and I realized that perhaps the life that I wanted could happen.

>> BOWEN: But without certainty.

And I think this is what intrigues me, because we see so many people who, they, they have fear, or they don't necessarily have the confidence to stick with something that may not turn out in the end.

Did you always have the confidence, or was there doubt, too?

>> I think things have happened along the way that have given me a lot more confidence, especially with my work.

I have a wonderful gallery now and they've given me a lot of support.

So that's important.

>> BOWEN: How much does your work change in the process?

I saw the Carpenter show, and you...

I thought I saw shades of, of pieces that maybe have been painted over, or things that were being worked out.

>> How did you feel about that?

>> BOWEN: I thought it was fascinating.

>> Good.

I, I got that reaction a lot, that people like seeing the history of the painting underneath.

And so I began to be more open about leaving traces of what I'd done before, because I thought it was interesting, too.

And, and when I see other people's work, I like to see how, perhaps, they... You know, like a sketch.

I like to see the sketch lines.

>> BOWEN: Can I ask you about your, the faces on your figures for a moment?

They're without features.

Is that okay for me to say, "without" rather than "lacking"?

I know that's a troublesome term for you.

>> Wouldn't you think that you wouldn't want your work to be described as "lacking" in any way?

>> BOWEN: I would absolutely agree.

>> You want to know why they don't have features?

>> BOWEN: Yes.

>> I am interested in the shapes and forms.

And when I describe things too specifically, I lose that kind of abstract quality.

Especially with facial features.

Sometimes it can just be the focal point of a painting too much.

It's too strong.

Some of my faces have features, and I'm trying to find a way to describe a face in my own personal way without falling into that pitfall.

>> BOWEN: Do you enjoy talking about your work?

>> Yes, I do.

(chuckles) >> BOWEN: Just making sure.

Some artists don't like to give away answers.

They like to leave it to interpretation.

So I'll keep asking, then.

There are also punctuations.

We see elements, underwear or sneakers, that are more identifiable, that really draw our eye, that are, that are so identifiable-- boxing gloves.

Where does that... What's that focus born of?

>> Well, that's a good word, focus.

So, so I have a human body, and it's pretty economical-- head, torso.

And I find these focal points, like the boxing gloves, are just what I need, just that ingredient to add to give it perhaps a narrative, perhaps another color, a visual resting point.

>> BOWEN: And the last question I'll ask about your work in particular is the color, and how long has color... Can you trace your interest in color all the way throughout your life?

>> No.

I think I've...

I think I've, just in the past decade, realized what a valuable tool color is and how much I love it, and how much I can play with it.

I think... You know, when you were asking me about, how did I know I wanted to be an artist and how did that happen, and so on, I think...

I think I'm a very visual person.

I love looking at things, all sorts of things, not even...

Doesn't even have to be great art.

I like using my eyes, and color is, is so strong a part of what we see.

And, and I think I'm quite in love with color.

>> BOWEN: Well, Katherine Bradford, I could speak to you forever.

Unfortunately, we don't have forever, but thank you so much for being here.

>> Thank you so much.

Thank you for your questions.

♪ ♪ >> BOWEN: In 1967, when Carl Stokes was elected mayor of Cleveland, Ohio, he made history as the first Black mayor of a major American city.

To mark his historic win, he commissioned a mural celebrating diversity.

We head to Cleveland now, by way of our PBS partner at WVIZ, to look at how restoring and rededicating that mural has also meant a recommitment to racial unity.

♪ ♪ >> A little over a half-century ago, two men met in downtown Cleveland to celebrate what they both hoped would be a new symbol for the city.

>> In 1969, my dad was 37 years old, and he was a creative director in Cleveland, Ohio.

>> In 1969, my father, Carl Stokes, was mayor of Cleveland at the age of 42.

>> The occasion was the dedication of a mural that spoke to their mutual passion for brotherhood and social justice.

John Morrell told the crowd that his work, Life is Sharing the Same Park Bench, was painted to honor Carl Stokes, who was two years into his first term as the first Black mayor of a major American city.

Stokes' election in 1967 had brought the eyes of the nation to Cleveland, especially after the devastation of recent racial uprisings across the country.

Here was a moment of hope, a moment of optimism.

>> The optimism came that, he believed in America, that a Black man can become elected in a majority white city.

>> The idea to celebrate that spirit came from a guy who originally hailed from Rochester, New York.

Art had been part of John Morrell's life ever since he was a kid.

>> He started cartooning when he was in the Army.

He did little pictures that are just marvelous.

>> He always did Christmas cards every year, and he would hand-draw them.

He would hand-draw all the birthday cards, and any time there was a holiday, he would do that.

>> A job opportunity brought the family to Cleveland in the mid-1960s when the times, they were a-changin'.

>> His personality, in my opinion, really came out in the late '60s.

You know, he was very influenced by the times, and having long hair, it was an expressive thing for him.

>> John Morrell's outward appearance was emblematic of the thoughts and feelings he harbored inside.

>> He had a very strong social justice leaning, personally, in his work, and cared a lot about organizations that dealt with the wellbeing of, you know, people in need in our community.

>> For instance, in the wake of a 1968 shootout between police and a group of Black activists led by Fred Ahmed Evans, Morrell created a controversial newspaper ad that portrayed Evans as the victim of what he saw as a questionable legal proceeding.

But then Morrell turned his attention to another image.

>> The mural was created in 1969, when there was a lot of social and racial unrest in Cleveland and in cities around the country.

And the message that John Morrell and Mayor Stokes brought forward was about togetherness and brotherhood, and that's the symbolism of this mural.

>> He believed in public art.

He wanted the public to see all art.

He didn't think you should pay to get into a museum.

Everybody should enjoy art and should be able to see it.

People that wouldn't ordinarily see art should see it.

He found the building, they went in, and they asked the owner, "Would you mind if I put this on this wall?"

And the guy's like, "Okay."

We would just go and hang out on the weekends, 'cause it kind of encompassed my dad for the weekends.

And he would ask people to come up.

"You wanna come paint?"

And they'd look around-- you know, people would just climb up and slap a little paint on.

He didn't really care if it was perfect.

It made no difference to him.

He just wanted people to be happy, he wanted to explain what he was doing.

>> I know that he felt at the time that it was important.

You know, when he was painting it, he was getting death threats from people, that they were going to shoot him off the scaffolding.

They did not want that Black figure on there.

They were literally calling up the house and threatening him.

>> The mural was dedicated on June 7, 1969.

>> It was exciting seeing my dad be recognized for something that he had done.

There was dancing, there was all sorts of fun stuff for a little kid.

And my dad looked happy.

I mean, he was just so grateful that it got there, because he didn't do it on his own.

He had a lot of support, and he got a lot of donations, and he had people that wanted to help, and he made sure that everybody knew that strangers helped paint it.

You know, people, people wanted to be part of this, and he wanted to make sure that it stayed there and that people loved it.

>> But not everybody loved it.

There was even talk in the early '90s of painting over the mural and replacing it with a new image.

>> He was upset.

He was beyond upset, and he was so grateful when they did decide to redo it and rededicate it, and he was very proud.

>> I think it's a really wonderful example about the sort of integrity and the sort of longevity and the importance of this, this piece.

And it's part of why we're proud to give it its next life again.

♪ ♪ >> As part of its tenth anniversary, the public art organization LAND Studio was able to fund a restoration of the mural which will include new landscaping and actual benches in the pocket park that's hosted the painting for all these years.

Alan Giberson, a young artist with a love for old-school techniques, was tapped to do the job.

>> I've definitely done, like, restoration jobs, but not like this.

This is like... it's almost graphic design-y, but it was so pre-graphic design.

It's like it's ahead of its time in a lot of ways, you know?

The linework is really nice for being rough brick.

It's not really hard to paint or anything, I just...

I just always want stuff to last long, and I want to be able to, like, see it when I'm older.

♪ ♪ >> The guy responsible for the original mural won't get to see this newly refreshed version of his most enduring work.

John Morrell died in 2010 in his native Rochester at the age of 77.

But this family will have it to hold on to.

>> It took days just to get the scaffolding up.

>> Yeah.

>> Then they put it up... >> I bet.

>> In stages.

I'm so happy, because I had been pushing.

Trying to figure out a way a little housewife in Rochester, New York, can figure out-- to talk Cleveland into making it better, fix it, paint it, don't let it fade away or cover it up.

It's something he was so proud of, and it keeps him living.

>> He was very proud of that message of racial tolerance, and it's obviously just as timely, if not more timely, today.

♪ ♪ >> My wife has dubbed this the mini-museum of the house.

(laughs) So here, this is a original photo on East 147th Street with my father and myself.

That's me as a baby.

I just really hate that, number one, we're still in this situation, and we're in even a greater fight today than maybe what we were back in the '60s.

The significance of the park bench still resonates because the fight still continues.

♪ ♪ >> BOWEN: And that is all for this edition of Open Studio.

As always, you can see us first on YouTube.com/gbhnews.

Remember to follow us on Instagram and Twitter @OpenStudioGBH.

I'm @TheJaredBowen.

As you can always visit us online at GBH.org/OpenStudio.

I'm Jared Bowen, thanks for joining us.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪