TeenTix Blog by TeenTix Newsroom

Throughout the world, ancient languages are fading away at an alarming rate. Alonzo King’s Figures of Speech, performed by his LINES Ballet company, aimed to preserve these moribund dialects by conveying the struggle of maintaining each language’s culture. The ballet recently shared pieces of these dialects, which range from the provincial Hawai’ian language spoken by 27,200 people to the extinct Selk’nam language that has no known native speakers, with the Seattle community.

Bringing his San Francisco-based ballet ensemble to the UW’s Meany Hall, choreographer and artistic director Alonzo King collaborated with slam poet and linguistic advocate Bob Holman to present his latest pièce de résistance, Figures of Speech. The LINES Ballet explored the power behind lost languages, guiding the audience on a touching trek through the sound, movement, and shape of aboriginal languages.

January. The first month of the new year and the perfect time for a new you. A clean slate. In other words: resolution time! If you want to read more or kick that procrastination habit, chances are you’re going to start this month. But here’s a secret: if your New Year’s resolution is to see more art—specifically art that celebrates new beginnings—the Teen Editorial Staff has got you covered. Interested in shows about youth? Check out the Children’s Film Festival at Northwest Film Forum. Want a show that was new over a hundred years ago? Go see UW Drama’s Rutherford and Son. And if you’re really craving shows that challenge societal stereotypes, we urge you to see Alonzo King LINES Ballet at Meany Center or Henry Art Gallery’s “Edgar Arceneaux: Library of Black Lies” exhibit. And if you’ve realized your resolution to run ten miles every day isn’t super realistic, you can always procrastinate by watching Yes Anderson at Jet City Improv or, to be honest, going to see any show in Seattle. Don’t worry, we won’t judge. We’ll probably be doing the same thing.

The Teen Editorial Staff is made up of 5 teens who curate the review portion of the TeenTix blog and manage the TeenTix Newsroom. More information about the Teen Editorial Staff can be found HERE.

The TeenTix Press Corps promotes critical thinking, communication, and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. For more information about the Press Corps program see HERE.

A Christmas Carol, written by Charles Dickens, is an already well known holiday story that makes its way around as a Christmas classic. Many are familiar with the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, teaching viewers about the values of being a good person through some funny characters, and of course, holiday cheer. Yet when A Christmas Carol turns into improv and Scrooge is the head of a meditation school, the story we know so well becomes much funnier, and maybe even better than before. The special thing about A(n improvised) Christmas Carol is that the audience are the ones who create the story. A half hour before the show, one of the actors came out to ask a series of questions that would impact how the rest of the night went. The audience got to choose things like the quirks of each character, such as playing with other people’s hair when stressed. He asked who was returning to see the show again. I watched from my seat as loud cheers and applause erupted from the crowd. More than half of the room, which was full, raised their hands with excitement and chatter. There was also us newcomers, silent at first, who also raised our hands, still excited for what was next. I loved that the audience had people of all ages. This made it a friendlier experience, which I appreciated since this was my first improv show. A favorite suggestion of mine from the audience was making Tiny Tim sick from laser eye disease. Later on this was incorporated into the show when we saw Tiny Tim walk out with huge goggles on his face to protect his eyes from lasering others. Some other suggestions that made it into the show that night included Scrooge living under the stairs, the Ghost of Christmas Past being a teletubbie, Scrooge having a stash of hidden gold bars, and Scrooge licking Cratchit’s toes. The ability each actor has to add their own special touch to a character is remarkable, incorporating the tiny quirks mentioned by the audience and adding their own ideas as well, such as how Scrooge liked to slam doors or the Ghost of Christmas Past liked to repeat “Your mom is dead!” and “Scrooge is sad!” over and over again. Even my own suggestion, taping pictures of people’s faces to a door to evoke joy, was incorporated multiple times into the show. I loved that feeling of accomplishment when your suggestion made people laugh.

Many families have a multitude of traditions during the holiday season: some bake cookies, go caroling, volunteer at charity, or go to church. But one tradition for many families is attending A Festival of Lessons & Carols, a concert performed by the Northwest Boychoir and Vocalpoint! Seattle. As divisions of Northwest Choirs, both groups aim to instill a passion for music and the arts in children and teens from the Pacific Northwest. These talented young men and women, between the ages of six and eighteen, perform alongside the Seattle Symphony in a classic Christmas service every year. This show is based on traditional Anglican worship services often held on Christmas Eve, and is a tradition that, this year, I participated in. The 90 minutes of readings, performances of traditional and modern Christmas carols, and heartwarming sing-alongs of classic Christmas favorites proved to be a jolly experience that exemplified the Christmas spirit.

The concert started with a luminous performance of “I Saw Three Ships,” which was followed by nine Bible readings, the titular lessons, and a varied and unique selection of carols. The ethereal voices of the Boychoir mixed well with the lower sounds of both male and female sections of Vocalpoint! Seattle, with an evident effort to enliven classic Christmas songs like “Silent Night” and “Hark The Herald.” Through new rhythms and consonant harmonies, these songs illustrated the diverse talents of the choir. Although some song choices were much more obscure than others, the songs included more modern arrangements and compositions, which helped to avoid the dreaded glaze of apathy which often covers an audience's eyes when faced with unfamiliar tunes. One particularly amusing performance was that of “Sweet Little Jesus Boy,” a Gospel song first written in the 1930s and arranged by the choir’s director Joseph Crnko; this song juxtaposed soaring, nearly incandescent melodies with upbeat, contemporary sounds. The female driven sing-alongs were less varied, more traditional carols, but had the same blend of expression, excellent sense of pitch, warm tonal quality, and crisp pronunciation.

Spotify Wrapped screenshots plaster social media as the year comes to end, users’ music tastes consolidated into neat consumable packages. It’s possible I’m just salty that they called me out for listening to 50+ hours of the same artist (love you Y La Bamba), but Spotify, Apple Music, and similar streaming services are changing the way we engage with music—digitizing, isolating, and directing our listening via depersonalized algorithms. Jack Straw Cultural Center’s collaboration with the Bushwick Book Club offers a different way to engage with art: genre-blending musical collaboration, in real time.

The 12 Jack Straw writers for 2018 have been producing and sharing work all year through the Jack Straw Cultural Center in the University District, an organization dedicated to providing writers and musicians with recording experience. For their annual end-of-the-year event, Jack Straw partners with Bushwick Book Club, a collective of musicians that draw their inspiration from literary works, and pairs each writer with a musician whose job it is to create a song inspired by their writer’s work. These 12 songs span a vast range of musical styles and themes, showing the meandering transformation of an idea filtered through a different consciousness and medium.

Human beings are constantly categorizing. “Polaroids: Personal, Private, Painterly" Photographs from the Collection of Robert E. Jackson, showcases a variety of Polaroids separated into the aforementioned categories. Out of the 13,000 photos in his collection, about 300 are Polaroids, 150 of which were selected and curated by Jackson in conjunction with Ben Heywood, chief curator at the Bellevue Arts Museum.

“Personal” refers to portraits. These images capture individuals, and the essence of who they are—the focus is on the photo’s subject rather than their actions or environment. There are certain parallels to be drawn between these portraits and selfies in our age of instant, digital cameras—they serve the same purpose. The importance doesn’t rest in what’s happening in the photo, but in the subject. However, when one thinks about photos as documents of history, even if they’re not depicting a well-known historical event, one can think about not just what’s going on inside the photo, but what’s going on in the world around that photo. Compiling photos from similar time periods can help you piece together foreign places. Social and political movements can cause people to make similar art and take similar photographs—the shared experiences of a group can influence a whole generation and their ways of thinking. Textbooks can easily miss out on depicting the way history has impacted individuals, but experiencing history through a lens makes the intangible, tangible, and the inaccessible, accessible. Conversely, capturing individuals in the context of different societies shows the universally human responses to situations, despite the circumstances. Two pieces framed together in this section portray two couples: one from the early 2000’s of a young pair posing by a fountain with flowers, and the other of a middle-aged couple posing on the beach, superimposed above the ocean. Although the individuals are from different worlds with different historical settings, they both display the same human response to being in love: a desire to capture their bond as couples.

And the show had begun. Four women on a stage. Crawling on the floor under a blanket. Furniture suspended from the ceiling. A layer of something called scrim. A topless woman. They are dancing. No, they are singing. No, they are talking. Are they sisters? Strangers? A mother and daughter? Wait, now it’s a show about Oprah. There is a pulsing noise in the background. Two scenes are happening at the same time. They are repeating an entire segment. From above, the furniture looks like a normal room. Some of the stage is flipped, so when actors are lying down and they are shown in a camera from above they look like they are sitting. They ripped the scrim. One of the women is wearing a glittery suit. They are playing with a light. The lights turn off and the show is over.

To say that Okwui Okpokwasili’s Poor People’s TV Room at On the Boards’ contemporary performance center was abstract may be an understatement; the show itself was a hypnotic, metaphoric emulsion of dance, song, monologue, and conversation. Describing the show is quite a burdensome task, as it was such a unique and shocking performance. The four women in the performance were made up of a multigenerational team of African and African American women. However, each performer was not a distinct character. Instead, the character each woman played fluctuated and changed until each woman was the other three women. Not only was the lack of distinct character a unique choice for the production, but the dancing was as well. The dancing was high energy and abstract, as some women danced alone and some danced with each other—though these partner and solo dances often happened at the same time of course.

People have a hard time forgetting firsts. You’re going to remember events like your first concert for many years after the fact. If you or a loved one are looking to experience a musical for the first time, there isn’t a better choice than the 5th Avenue Theatre’s production of Annie.

Annie was actually the first musical I ever saw—my sister loved the 1982 version and we’d seen it performed everywhere from Youth Theater Northwest to the Paramount. As a result, I went into this production with a more critical eye than usual. I wasn’t expecting anything awful, but I expected to walk away confident that my previous experiences would reign superior.

Jimi Hendrix is a Seattle icon. Or so I'm told. Before going to see Bold as Love: Jimi Hendrix at Home at the Northwest African American Museum, I had never really gotten around to listening to his music. I'm also terrible at museums; I expect them to be stagnant and awkwardly informational. So the combination of a museum with a Seattle superstar I knew next to nothing about was mildly terrifying. I slunk into the exhibit with my head down, afraid all the fans would see the Hendrix-ignorance in my eyes, and prepared to be bombarded with trying-too-hard inspirational quotes.

The exhibit, guest curated by Jackie Peterson, is set up like a timeline, snaking chronologically around the edges of the room. Photographs and glass-encased objects—postcards, the sofa Hendrix slept on while home from tour, his grandmother's hats—drew me in with their quiet connection to this icon. I ended up learning about Hendrix's history almost accidentally: from Seattle, where he was born and spent his childhood, drawing comics and pretending to play guitar on a broom, to mid-60s London, where he almost immediately became a guitar star.

The recent MOHAI sponsored event, Engage: The Art of Protest, cultivated artistic empowerment throughout the Seattle community.

Walking through the glass doors of the MOHAI, we were greeted by plaisc covered tables strewn with photographs of powerful and historic street protests: women with chains around their necks fighting for the Equal Rights Amendment in the 1960s, workers picketing outside Pike Place Market, elderly women with fire in their eyes holding wooden crosses to commemorate those killed during a protest in Nicaragua. We were asked to sit at a table with a picture that resonated with us, giving everyone there an icebreaker and reason to interact with the strangers and friendly faces that surrounded them.

While it may be controversial to begin the Christmas season so early, I began mine the evening of November 23rd, opening night of Pacific Northwest Ballet’s The Nutcracker. The result of which was a distinct and familiar feeling of jovial warmth—a near impossible emotion to leave McCaw Hall without.

Various candy-inspired photo booths and guests dressed in formalities, ranging from hipster-dressy to black tie, paraded the lobby anticipating the show. The show is inherently a family event, as evidenced by the many children wandering about. It is certainly the least intimidating ballet for new viewers due to its palatable familial storyline; an excellent way to scratch the surface of what can often feel like an inaccessible art form.

Muhammad Ali is one of those historical figures whose titanic cultural presence often overshadows the nuances of his life. Playwright Idris Goodwin aims to find the man behind the legend in his new work, And in This Corner: Cassius Clay, presented by Seattle Children’s Theatre. The result, as directed by Malika Oyetimein, is a lively and thoroughly original piece of theatre.

The story unfolds as if out of a pop-up-book on scenic designer Shawn Ketchum Johnson’s endlessly inventive whirligig of a set. The stage is styled after an old-school gym, with boxing equipment doubling as minimalistic, but instantly recognizable indicators of time and place. We first meet Ali (André G. Brown) in narrator form, speaking one of the many rhyming interludes that tie the narrative together (a tribute to Ali’s famous rhyme-heavy rebuttals that would remain a constant throughout his career). We are then transported to Jim Crow-era Louisville, Kentucky, where Ali remerges as a 12-year-old, then known by his birth name of Cassius Clay. There we are introduced to his mother Odessa (Bria Samoné Henderson) and younger brother Rudy (Chip Sherman), who have just left a Sunday church service. It soon becomes apparent that the realities of segregation dictate the way they behave in public and their freedom as individuals. These struggles are not lost on the Clay brothers, who, along with their friend Eddie (Lamar Legend), often talk about the heated racial climate with both childlike innocence and the clarity of first-hand experience. It is clear that Cassius is the natural leader of the pack, full of the spitfire force, pre-adolescent energy and unformed talent.

December is inherently a month of celebrations. Initially, one might think these “celebrations” are limited to those regarding holidays. But here at TeenTix, we think of celebrations as much more.

This month, we hope to celebrate the people in our lives, the things we have, and of course, celebrate the impact of art on our lives.

Made for teens to connect with other like-minded youth and write about art, the TeenTix Newsroom is a place for teen arts lovers to practice their writing skills! The TeenTix Newsroom is led by the Teen Editorial Staff - 5 teens who curate the review portion of the TeenTix blog. Editorial Staff members decide which art events to cover each month, then assign teen writers to review them. How It Works:

Along with a teen editor, who will then edit their work, teen writers will attend an arts event for free. Afterwards, they’ll write a review that will be published on the TeenTix blog - so this is your chance to share your opinion on Seattle arts! For each review, writers will work individually with an editor on the Teen Editorial Staff to polish their writing for publication. Teen writers can pop in to the monthly newsroom gatherings to meet with the Teen Editorial Staff, receive side-by-side editing, and learn more about the craft of arts writing. Plus, there are snacks! This is YOUR CHANCE to join this fun, supportive environment, and become a published writer! Also, teen writers are eligible to receive a stipend of up to $20 per review. Apply to be part of the TeenTix Newsroom TODAY!

The Atlas Theatre, where ComedySportz performs, creates a quirky and fun atmosphere by placing paintings by local artists (one depicts Edward Scissorhands giving Chewbacca a haircut) and odd trinkets, such as a ventriloquist dummy that stares down at the audience, around the theater. These purposefully placed objects effectively add a unique vibe to the already unusual space.

The referee, who controls the game and gives out points, comes onto the stage to begin the game. The chairs in the back are already full and the murmur of soft conversation was serving as background noise long before I walked into the room. People are relaxed before the referee begins his introduction, and the easy mood of the room sets the tone of the evening.

I have never been one for cliché expressions, but the phrase “a picture is worth a thousand words” has never been so applicable as when I had the opportunity to experience the photographic chronicle of President Obama’s time in office. With our current administration, it may be easy to lose the hope that we may ever have a leader capable of respect, empathy, and an unwavering resolve to make the world better for the people who inhabit it. But Pete Souza, official White House Photographer for Presidents Obama and Reagan, decided to remind us of the kind of leader we are capable of electing.

I had the pleasure of attending Pete Souza’s lecture on his newest book, "Shade: A Tale of Two Presidents" at Seattle’s Benaroya Hall. After a quick musical performance, Souza was introduced and started at the end, so to speak, by detailing his experience from the conclusion of Obama’s presidency up until the proceedings at Trump’s (or as Souza referred to him, “[President] 46 minus 1”) inauguration. This shade makes this lecture one that is best suitable for an audience whose beliefs align more with that of the Obama administration. The lecture itself had an undeniable political bias. Still, throughout his lecture, Souza kept pushing the people to vote for the leaders they thought capable of filling such a position.

The show 14/48:HS consisted of seven premier shows all written, produced, memorized, and performed in 24 hours, the next night they do it all again. All productions put on are by teenagers, and everything from the set design to the writing and even the band are all done in under 24 hours. I saw the first seven shows that the company was putting on throughout the weekend-long event and the drive and passion shown was astonishing.

The shows were created in teams and reached through several genres and topics. Some plays were comedies, such as “Finishing The Block” or the show “Spiral” which included a multitude of hilarious metaphors to describe the ridiculous plot of one of the characters not being able to stop spinning in circles. Others were mysterious or serious, such as “Onto the Carousel” that never quite gave an answer to the audience's questions about the story. The shows were focused on different topics and the writing style varied from writer to writer, but all shows had an element of comedy unique to each piece that enhanced the production such as situational irony or a hint of sarcasm in the dialogue. This was used quite often in an amusing play about twins called “Identical.” The plays also had a deeper hidden message, whether it was evident through the words and body language like the show “Deja Vu,” or hidden behind jokes and clever repartee. Two shows performed, “This Dance” and “Try This On For Size,” are brilliant examples of this doctrine; both began with a series of comical actions before coming to a profound ending that gave the show a strong moral philosophy. The writing of the shows was way above the standard for teenage writing, which further highlights the incredible dedication that the students participating have.

If you’ve lived in Seattle long enough, at some point, you might have seen a poster for Twisted Flicks and wondered what Jet City Improv’s on-the-spot movie redubbing entails. The premise for the show is simple: an obscure black and white movie is played in its entirety while improv performers and musicians reimagine the dialogue and score. It’s been happening with a new film every month ever since the 1997 original, but, on October 25th, I saw the opening night performance of Ed Wood’s Bride of the Monster.

I immediately loved the mood of the venue from the moment I walked in. A large amount of attendees who seemed to be regulars were already seated and mingling with the cast, who were roaming the theater for suggestions. This atmosphere made the space feel like it hosted a community of people who cared about each other—comedians who love to perform and an audience eager to support them. Even with an established fan base, the environment was nothing but welcoming and not exclusionary in any capacity.

Moments of brilliance abound in Night Parade, the latest offering from Pork Filled Productions and REBATEnsemble, but the play suffers from a convoluted storyline. Though it stands out for its engaging stagecraft and costuming, Night Parade simply has too many ideas.

After arriving at an undisclosed location, the audience is ushered into a cramped lobby, where tea is served and Japanese music sets an ominous tone. Posters on the minimal wall space bear information pertaining to such Japanese folktales as the “Nine-Tailed Fox,” “The Tale of the Shutan Doji,” and the play’s primary inspiration, “The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons,” an ancient legend surrounding the procession of supernatural creatures. Viewers of this parade perish upon sight. Then, we are led into an immersive gallery space, displaying the works of tragic, deceased, and fictitious Japanese artist Shunkuno Arashi (an excellent Aimee Decker). The gallery is run by the tightly wound curator Herald Stass (Andrew Forrest), an exploitative art-hound with skeletons in his closet. He is accompanied by his assistant (Buddy Todd), who is tasked with the tiresome comic gag of handing out tiny pencils to the audience, and the mysterious Nurari (Season Qiu), a sharply dressed man who claims to have known Arashi.

What do you think of when you hear the word “November”? Thanksgiving? Fall? Homework? Boredom? How about “midterms” or “politics”? For those lucky TeenTix members who are of voting age and ready to make their voices heard, the word “November” will probably inspire excitement and fear—the fate of the government is in their hands. The rest of us, however, will have to settle for seeing political and social justice-themed art.

From a guitar god who felt boxed in by racial stereotypes to an interactive piece about protests, from a talk about the Obamas to the legacy of Muhammad Ali, we’ve got a packed month ahead. We’ll be exploring political-themed events through all of November, so you can dive into politics even after the election.