Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Animal Magnetism


Animal Magnetism

By Tom Wachunas



   “The history of modern art is also the history of the progressive loss of art's audience. Art has increasingly become the concern of the artist and the bafflement of the public.”   - Paul Gauguin

   “The object isn’t to make art, it’s to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable.” - Robert Henri


   EXHIBIT: Art and the Animal – Annual Traveling Exhibition of the Society of Animal Artists (SAA) / at the Canton Museum of Art, 1001 Market Avenue North, Canton, Ohio / THROUGH JULY 17, 2016 / 330.453.7666  www.cantonart.org 


    To begin, I provide here some useful background info excerpted (italicized here) from the Canton Museum of Art News Release from a few months ago:

   Art and the Animal refers to both the annual exhibition of the Society of Animal Artists, and the traveling exhibition and tour that is generated from it…

…Only the best animal art is selected for Art and the Animal. Consequently, it extremely difficult, and therefore prestigious, for artists to have artwork accepted into the exhibition. Combining natural history and fine art in creative ways, SAA members compete to have their work included in annual exhibitions chosen by a selection jury comprised of SAA members who meet at the Salmagundi Club in New York each Spring…

…The Society of Animal Artists was founded in 1960 by the late Patricia Allen Bott and Guido Borghi, two visionaries who sought to reposition animal art as an important contemporary art form by creating a community of like-minded artists…”

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   OK now, onward. I’m not going to be commenting on any specific pieces if only because there are simply too many of equally superb caliber in this exhibit of more than 60 works from world-class wildlife artists. I have no “favorites.” In fact, I was amply overwhelmed at the consistent level of utterly exquisite technique and design sensibilities apparent here in both 2D and 3D works. To be sure, the SAA is one very seriously gifted fellowship of, as stated above, “like-minded” artists. And it’s that “like-minded” reference, along with “…to reposition animal art…” that resonate most deeply with my appreciation of this spectacular show. As it is, my commentary here is largely centered on the art of painting as perceived and appreciated by both those “in the know” as well as by the general viewing public “in the now” of these postmodern times.

    For many years I have sung the praises of non-objective, abstract, “painterly” works – their pursuit, both dauntless and daunting, of intuition, spontaneity, improvisation…of inventing the world anew to the point of creating an autonomous reality, true only to itself, it would seem. Vive la differénce.

   Yet all along I’ve been acutely aware that this sort of contemporary painting can often be perplexing enough to squelch meaningfulness to many viewers who might be too easily if not wrongly dismissed as unsophisticated, or insensitive to really seeing. I remember feeling both amused and humbled when I saw a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon some years ago, wherein I read, “As my artist statement explains, my work is utterly incomprehensible, therefore full of deep significance.” It’s hilarious in its way, not to mention ironic in how it embodies the elitist philosophy apparent in so much art critique these days – experts floundering in arcane artspeak to “explain” the latest showing of the emperor’s new clothes.

    Don’t get me wrong – my respect for, and appreciation of truly compelling non-objective painting remains undiminished. That said, I think it also true that representational art of the sort seen here (call it what you will – Realism, Naturalism, tromp l’oeil, even Hyper-realism) harks to a time and culture where faithful imitation of the natural world was a sufficiently compelling enough metaphor for the nobler aspects of the human condition. I think we’re currently entrenched in a culture that has too quickly marginalized such art, somehow determining it to be merely nostalgic, pleasant or “entertaining,” but impotent. Hence, the SAA and similar entities must necessarily – and courageously – continue to “reposition” themselves in the minds and hearts of all those dedicated to savoring truly great art.   

   If Modernism opened a Pandora’s Box of stylistic and philosophic variances in painting, Postmodernism has served to further advance both the best and the most eccentric, ridiculous, and aberrant of those variances. Vive la differénce, but how much, and for how long? This is certainly not to say there’s no place for non-objective expression, only that history will find a way to sort out and prioritize the vagaries of trending cultural tastes.

   Meanwhile I’m nonetheless hopeful, even confident, that when representational art rises to the level of visual sublimity we see in this particular exhibition, it rightly remains a timeless, relevant and necessary witness to the ineffable beauty of the natural world.

   Can what was old be made new again? Vive la révolution.



PHOTOS, from top, courtesy Canton Museum of Art:    Ed Takacs (American). Gelapagos Marine Iguana, 2014. Acrylic, 23 x 29  in. Image Courtesy of the artist © Ed Takacs / Cynthie Fisher (American). Ambush!, 2015. Oil, 48 x 65  in. Image Courtesy of the artist © Cynthie Fisher. / John Baumlin (American). Out on a Limb, 2015. Oil on Linen, 26 x 36 in. Image Courtesy of the artist. © John Baumlin. / Grant Hacking (American). Ancestral Bloodline, 2014. Oil on Canvas, 47 x 57 in. Image Courtesy of the artist. © Grant Hacking. / Patsy Lindamood (American). Upward Bound, 2011. Pastel on Ampersand Pasteboard, 24 x 30 in. Image Courtesy of the artist. © Grant Hacking.

Friday, June 17, 2016

Eloquent Obsolescence






Eloquent Obsolescence

By Tom Wachunas



    “I’m fascinated by objects that outlast their utility, that are still around after advancing technology has long ago made them obsolete. Using a camera from the ’70s or a micrometer from the ’40s is an amazing experience. In a world where the camera you bought today was replaced yesterday, that's a rare opportunity. If I'm lucky, I'll outlast my usefulness too.”  - Jeremy Aronhalt 


    EXHIBIT: Older Than I – Photography by Jeremy Aronhalt, curated by Craig Joseph,  THROUGH JULY 17, 2016, at Studio M in MASSILLON MUSEUM, 121 Lincoln Way East, downtown Massillon, Ohio /  Museum hours: Tuesday through Saturday 9:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. and Sunday 2:00 to 5:00 p.m. / 330-833-4061 / www.massillonmuseum.org   




   Standing alone recently in Massillon Museum’s Studio M, I was facing and looking at a photograph of a camera…through my camera. In that lens-to-lens moment, it seemed strange if not downright surreal to be making a picture of a picture of a thing that once made pictures. But I had decided to document this commentary on the photographs (Archival ink jet prints) by Jeremy Aronhalt, curated by Craig Joseph, in a manner more true to their physicality, their reality as art objects presently on a wall in a specific place, rather than presenting out-of-context, pristine digital reproductions.

   Speaking of ‘pristine,’ all of the photos in the exhibit are under glass, uniformly framed in black, each showing an object crisply focused and perfectly centered, or a small collection of objects elegantly arranged and balanced, and all appearing to be situated on a blank white “field.”  There’s something scientific about the presentation, suggesting inventoried  specimens from a bygone era.

   The analogy isn’t so farfetched. As Aronhalt tells us in his statement, these are pictures of objects that have outlasted their original functions. In that, they’re like so many fossils of extinct species. But as any paleontologist would tell you, fossils are neither useless nor mute.

   This exhibit, then, is certainly not an exercise in vapid nostalgia or pointless curiosity.  Aronhalt’s ‘fossils’ are largely of vintage devices used for seeing, measuring, or building, and as photographs they’re imbued with an oddly beautiful, sublime simplicity and precision.  Consider them as eloquent symbols that speak of the uniquely human desire and capacity to consciously connect with history. On one level, these photographs remind me that we can most intentionally and fully appreciate where we are now only to the extent that we can appreciate the ideas and technologies that got us here.

   So there I was, photographing photographs, noticing the interior of the room reflected off their surfaces, including myself, holding the camera, a  gadget for seeing, measuring, building a connection. Think of it as a merging of past with present, of artifact with artifice. Or better still, think of the art of photography as the useful pursuit of timelessness.


   PHOTOS, from top: Thread Gage / Handy Reference / Lufkin I.D. Mics / Dial Indicators / Installation view   

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Finding a Nexus






Finding a Nexus

By Tom Wachunas



    nex•us (ˈnɛk səs)

n., pl. nex•us•es, nex•us.

1. a means of connection; tie; link. / 2. a connected series or group. /3. the core or center, as of a matter or situation. / 4. a specialized area of the cell membrane involved in intercellular communication and adhesion. [From the Latin nexus - a binding, joining, fastening, derivative of nect(ere) to bind, fasten] / Citation: Random House Kernerman Webster's College Dictionary, © 2010 K Dictionaries Ltd. Copyright 2005, 1997, 1991 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.

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     “Picasso was the first person to produce figurative paintings which overturned the rules of appearance; he suggested appearance without using the usual codes, without respecting the representational truth of form, but using a breath of irrationality instead, to make representation stronger and more direct; so that form could pass directly from the eye to the stomach without going through the brain.”   - Francis Bacon



    EXHIBIT: Vibrant Intuitions, paintings by Tina Meyers, at the Little Art Gallery, located in the North Canton Public Library, THROUGH JULY 9, 2016 / 185 N. Main Street, North Canton, Ohio  330.499.4712  Ext. 312



   The above quote from painter Francis Bacon (1909-1992) is particularly apropos to this exhibit on a few levels, which I’ll elaborate upon shortly. First, though, I point out that Bacon’s assessment of Picasso’s originality was a bit too generous if not inaccurate. While it’s true that Picasso radically transformed traditional 2D representation early in the 20th century along with his cohort, Georges Braque, in their invention of Cubism, he acknowledged the significant influence of his predecessor, Paul Cezanne (1839-1906), whom he called on more than one occasion, “the father of us all.” It was Cezanne’s late-19th century quest for “a new optic” that would ultimately set the stage for the revolution of pictorial form that became Modernist painting.

   Looking at the 32 works here by Tina Meyers, most of them acrylic paintings that span the past two years (she’s a remarkably prolific artist), I wonder if she has asked herself on many occasions the same question that Cezanne repeatedly embraced: Can a painting convey a sense of natural solidity and depth without depending on the academic conventions of illusionism?

   It’s interesting to note that Meyers is self-taught. So was Francis Bacon. As she tells us in her statement for this exhibit, her work is a “therapeutic process” wherein her pictures evolve over time. It’s an intuitive process – you could call it a self-correcting response to her own abstract mark-making – that can allow relatively identifiable images to emerge. The resultant surfaces, while not seething with impasto paint textures, have a subtly tactile and layered physicality. And it’s that ideological arc of immediacy - of being in the moment of putting paint to surface, of seeing a mark and progressively responding to it with another mark or a broad swath of color or a simple line – that conceptually aligns Meyers’ approach with, among other influences, Abstract Expressionism. 

    So it is that some of her figural pieces, such as “Night Swimmer” and “Solitude,” or nature images such as “May Flowers,” exude an intensely gestural and spontaneous energy. Brushstrokes have a swept or blurred look similar to that which haunts so many of Francis Bacon’s paintings.

   Then again, many other pieces, including “Disagreement” and “Canopy,” clearly demonstrate Meyers’ Cubist sensibilities. And like the Cubists, Meyers seems cognizant to varying degrees in such works of Cezanne’s employment of color “passages” – planes of color that both fade away from and meld with surrounding areas.

   Meyer’s handling of pictorial space, however, significantly differs from that of Cezanne or the Cubists, who opted to fully integrate objects with their “backgrounds.”  Her renderings of specific things or figures generally have a constructed, even “sculpted” feel in that they’re autonomous, volumetric occurrences (an exception being the geometric abstraction in the enigmatically titled “Advices”), standing on somewhat undefined, shallow, though very painterly, “fields.” Sometimes her use of black lines (ink pen or Sharpie) to trace a contour or reinforce a texture feels like a too-cute and precious afterthought - an unnecessary intrusion on the overall dynamic of the picture.

   That said, those are relatively minor glitches in the otherwise memorable and unique aesthetic dialect that Tina Meyers has adopted. In doing so, she has effectively fashioned a seductive nexus of Modernist sources.  


    PHOTOS, from top: May Flowers / Disagreement / Canopy / Solitude / Advices

Monday, June 6, 2016

Alluring Echoes of Science




 Alluring Echoes of Science

By Tom Wachunas

   “All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling man's life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and leading the individual towards freedom.”  - Albert Einstein


    EXHIBIT: FUSION – The Merging of Art & Science / works by Sarah Burris, Jennifer Anne Court, Keith Freund + Linda Lejovska, Micah Kraus, Beth Lindenberger, Jack McWhorter, Miwa Neishi, Lorraine-Heller Nicholas, Seth Shaffer, Donna Webb (also with Beth Lindenberger and Joseph Blue Sky), Wei Zeng / at  SUMMIT ARTSPACE,  through JUNE 18, 2016 /  140 East Market Street, Akron, Ohio / Gallery hours Thursday and Friday 12 – 7 p.m., Saturday 12 to 5 p.m. /  phone 330-376-8480 / www.summitartspace.org

    The theme of this group show – “The Merging of Art and Science” – suggests some intriguing considerations. Initially, it might seem predicated on a conventional perspective that art and science are separate and discrete …what? Disciplines?  Motivations?  Methodologies?  In the past, this sort of compartmentalizing tended to make us associate such things as intuition, chance, and emotionality with art, while assigning reason and logic to the realm of science. It’s the classic dichotomy of subjectivity and objectivity, creating and perceiving, or if you will, of spirituality and materiality.

    But I think our postmodernist philosophizing and its penchant for deconstructing old assumptions and definitions can be useful in appreciating how the boundaries between art and science aren’t as substantive or necessary as we might think. For the moment, consider both simply as human pursuits or aspirations, cross-fertilizing each other, and otherwise united in that they are, essentially, responses to being alive. As such, both pursuits are inherently exploratory and expository activities, ultimately probing  the meaning of our aliveness. In that regard, the sheer variety of media to be found here makes the exhibit at once aesthetically engaging and - particularly in the mesmerizing collaborative video installation by Lorraine-Heller Nicholas, Sarah Burris, Keith Freund and Linda Lejsovka - cerebrally challenging.

    This is not to say that these artworks are “scientific” illustrations or expositions of the apparent workings of the universe, or declarations of immutable truths. They don’t “explain” in the cognitive sense so much as they imply or abstract, while often celebrating evidence of nature’s fecundity of organic forms, physical systems, and/or processes. The curator for this exhibit, Rob Lehr, puts it this way: “Artists and scientists both investigate the world around them to absorb and transform information into new and unexpected ways. From laboratories to studios, biomimicry with all of its fascinating nuances, merges art and science, allowing onlookers to grasp nature’s remarkable power to evolve and survive.”

   Though Jennifer Anne Court calls her beautiful digital prints “Microscapes,” their rippled fields of color seem to somehow evoke not just fluid movement on a small scale, but perhaps cosmic waves of stellar energy as well. On the other hand, Wei Zeng’s series of intimately-scaled pieces, under the title “Live Like Cells” and made with silver and polymer clay, are more clearly inspired by microscopic cellular growths. But here they’re objectified and enlarged enough - as indicated in the accompanying snapshots of (presumably) the artist – to be worn like jewelry. There’s an elegant intimacy, too, in Beth Lindenberger’s delicate terracotta evocations of forms reminiscent of seedpods or spores.

    On a headier note, Micah Kraus’s collages of found imagery  along with relief and screen prints read like a Dada scrapbook, or whimsical manifestos on psychology and physiology. And it seems to be a psychological “space” as well that Miwa Neishi explores in an array of fascinating open-volume, brightly-hued sculptures.

    The wall sculptures by Seth Shaffer are meticulously crafted boxes that have been deeply incised to reveal amorphous cavities made with recessed layers of hand-cut paper. The depth, intricacy, and variable patterns of these layers are a wondrous counterpoint to the slick stability of the outer surfaces of the boxes.  Metaphors for the neuron networks deep inside the skull?

    And speaking of counterpoints, music of a kind came to mind when I saw the four spectacular oil paintings  by Jack McWhorter.  Pulsing, layered, soaring music. Broad brushstrokes like melody lines. Coming forward,  fading inward, then forward again. Entwined with polyphonic harmonies. Driven along by bold, brassy staccato notes. Dotted with steady percussion. Tone poems about the movement of molecules, or chemical reactions, or interactive systems of living things growing and evolving.

    Call them songs about science.


    PHOTOS, from top: Resurrection Shell, by Jack McWhorter / Sheba 1196, by Seth Shaffer / Plum Blue, by Miwa Neishi / Cellscape #2, by Beth Lindenberger  

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Dog Gone


Dog Gone

By Tom Wachunas



   “I guess you don't really own a dog, you rent them, and you have to be thankful that you had a long lease.”  - Joe Garagiola

   “Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.”

    - Alice Sligh Turnbull 


    My previous post on the sculptures of James Mellick was yet another reminder of just how much my life has gone to the dogs of late. So for those of you who might find the following to be so much (mush?) sentimental journalizing, tough. Get over it. And while I’m at it, I might as well tell you that I cry at movies, too.

   Anyway, one morning three weeks ago, just before leaving home to run some errands, I went to the fridge as usual to get out a couple of balogna pieces to stuff into our dog Spanky’s bone. “Spanky,”  I called out, “I got yer treat!”  This had been a habit for the past 13 years or so – his cue to dutifully (and hungrily – my, oh my, how they’re always hungry) scamper to his cage where he snacked and snuggled when we were away from the house. Almost immediately it hit me - a feeling of disorientation and emptiness, followed quickly by a jolt of overwhelming melancholy. Spanky wasn’t going to have his treat that day, or any thenceforth, because he simply…wasn’t.

    There have been other similar moments – teary-eyed episodes, really - in my days since that one. Days flooded with the realization of just how many rhythms, rituals, and routines in our daily lives were built on Spanky’s presence.

    Days flooded with memories joyous and bittersweet. On the day that my wife, Martha, and I went to the breeder’s house in March of 2003, he was at first nowhere to be seen as we looked over his four siblings playing in the living room. We were right on the verge of choosing one of those black-and-white cuties to take home. Then, there he was, all of eight weeks old and the largest of the litter. A fluffy flurry of brindle-colored fur came tumbling down the steps from upstairs, gathered himself, and strutted into the room with all the dignity of royalty. Thereafter he commanded, and got, our affections.

   Memories. Like those first few weeks when I could hold him sitting upright in the palm of my hand. Or his first encounter with snow deeper than he was tall. By the time he trekked back into the house, he was completely encased in a coat of perfectly-formed tiny snowballs. Or the staccato clicking of his nails on the kitchen floor as he dashed for the side door and waited eagerly every time one of us asked him, “Wanna go for a walk?”  

   Though the oppressive heat of August is still a few months away, my dog days began on the evening of May 6, when Martha and I returned home from the vet, gingerly lifted Spanky’s blanket-wrapped body out of the car, and buried our beloved Shih Tzu. The Little Lion now rests with the Tiger Lillies in our back yard. A star has fallen from the firmament of our lives, and we are Siriusly saddened. I wonder, can dogs appreciate puns?

    Whimsical queries aside, I’ve been wondering a great deal about what dogs might be given to appreciate after living out their lives of blessing their human companions with countless soul-soothing delights. I think it’s neither presumptuous nor heretical to imagine that the all-merciful and loving Creator of Everything would in turn provide a haven of happiness for creatures such as this. Is the Scriptural promise of eternal reward meant only for us humans?  

    Spanky’s last few months were increasingly heartbreaking to witness.  A number of ailments had put him into a dark and silent place. But his final moments on the vet’s table were mercifully quick, and without pain or struggle. And though blind and deaf when he left this place, I imagine his regal strut all over again as he saw the open arms of his Creator and heard his words, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” Followed, of course, with, “Spanky! I got yer treat!”

Monday, May 23, 2016

Eloquent Totemic Remembrances




Eloquent Totemic Remembrances

By Tom Wachunas



   “…Rather than focusing on the ugly side of truth, my intent is to focus on the nobility of those who sacrificed life, limb and spirit in service to their country and thus, to us.”  - James Mellick


   …Mellick doesn’t just sculpt his forms “out of wood” in the subtractive sense so much as he seems to lovingly caress them into being… ARTWACH review, September 3, 2012  http://artwach.blogspot.com/2012/09/tales-that-wag-dog.html


    EXHIBIT: Wounded Warrior Dogs: Celebrating America’s K-9 Heroes, wood sculpture by James Mellick, at the Canton Museum of Art THROUGH JULY 17, 2016 / 1001 Market Avenue North, Canton, Ohio / 330.453.7666   www.cantonart.org


    One adaptation of an ancient tale tells us that after humans were expelled from Eden, a chasm began to separate them from all other animals. Humans feared and hunted the animals, who responded in kind. But one animal - a dog – paced anxiously as he watched the chasm grow ever wider and finally leaped across toward a man. As the dog was clinging desperately to the edge of the precipice, the man reached down and pulled him to safety. Thereafter the two remained the best of friends.

   Artist James Mellick writes in his statement accompanying his stunning wood sculptures currently installed in the lobby of the Canton Museum of Art that, “…Our culture is so invested in dogs that they have become the totem animal of human kind.” His observation is particularly apropos when considering what “totems” are historically – likenesses of animals or other natural forms made to symbolize blood relationships with human clans or families.

    Indeed, “blood relationships” of a kind are very much at the ideological center of these works. While they don’t illustrate such connections in the biologically genetic sense, they nonetheless bring to mind that making war seems to be, tragically enough, in our societal DNA.


    Mellick’s constructed canine anatomies are assemblages of separately carved and/or layered parts of highly polished woods. It’s a fascinating method that reinforces the sense that these dogs, once terribly wounded, have been put back together and rehabilitated. Incorporated prosthetic devices in three of the sculptures, such as a knee joint or a leg, look like state-of-the-art medical devices made for humans.

    And therein we can find an inroad to a deeper appreciation of the dual symbolism in Mellick’s pieces. Yes, the indisputable sublimity of his workmanship makes his sculpted objects a completely arresting homage to these animals and the vital services they have traditionally rendered during wartime. But again, these representations are also about the meaning of the relationship between human soldiers and their canine compatriots, and in turn their relationship to us. We can savor them far beyond seeing the dogs only as trained servants doing a “master’s’” bidding. They speak to a unique bonding, an esprit de corps, a shared duty and identity in the midst of harrowing conflict and rescue. As such, Mellick invites us to see the dogs – their journeys and deeds - as votive allegories of the selfless courage and sacrifice of all wounded veterans.

    To put it another way, Mellick’s sculptures are exquisite proxies, at once beautiful and heartbreaking. The most compelling work in this grouping may well be the largest, called The Way Back. The dog is dramatically distressed (Mellick bleached and burned cedar wood to augment the effect) -  struggling to walk, starving, fur disheveled and looking like so many knife points, one eye swollen shut, one thigh deeply scarred.

   The way back indeed…from the precipice.


    PHOTOS, from top: The Way Back / Not Forgotten / Wounded Warrior #1 /   

Monday, May 16, 2016

Magical Medicine

Magical Medicine

By Tom Wachunas

    For those of us familiar with Disney’s 1964 family film classic, Mary Poppins, featuring the memorable chemistry between Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke, it might be understandable to wonder how a stage version (this one opened on Broadway in 2006) featuring local talent could possibly measure up. But perish the thought. This is, after all, the Players Guild Theatre, and just about every aspect of this mainstage offering is, as the title of one song suggests, practically perfect.

  Directed by Michael Lawrence Akers (who also choreographed the show along with Bart Herman), the well-practiced cast is, in a word, extraordinary. The big ensemble songs are executed with a practically tribal intensity, replete with luscious harmonies and commanding choreographic bravura (even the final curtain call is an electrifying act in itself), all skillfully synced with the vibrant live orchestra led by Steve Parsons. And the set pieces designed by Joshua Erichsen, especially the chimneyed London rooftops spread across the stage in Act Two, are impressive.

   In the title role of the nanny hired to serve the troubled Banks family in 1910 London, Meg Martinez is an utterly magnetic presence, even if she does seem a bit nervous hanging on to her flying umbrella. She’s an eminently gifted singer as well as very attentive to her character’s more subtle psychological underpinnings.  Yes, she’s genuinely bubbly and loving. Yet despite her infectious charisma, she’s also a wise loner in a complicated sort of way, and fully capable of answering any sassy challenge to her position with sardonic wit.

   Those challenges come primarily in the form of George Banks, the family patriarch with misplaced priorities, and early on, the rambunctious children, Jane and Michael. As the irascible Mr. Banks, Micah Harvey is compelling in his own right, obsessed with his job as a banker and exuding a chilling detachment from his children as well as his wife, Winifred, played by Amanda Medley. Like the children, she’s starved for really authentic love. Medley’s piercing, bittersweet voice is a poignant embodiment of fragility, longing, and frustration initially, but as the story progresses, we watch her gather confidence when her hopelessness is palpably transformed into family healing. Through it all, young Brooklyn Fockler as Jane, and Adam Petrosino as Michael, perform with endearing  - at times even startling – panache. To quote another iconic song, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocius, they “…always sound precocious.”

   Also quite astonishing is the vivacious energy that the versatile Justin Edenhofer stirs up in his role of the street-hardened yet tender Bert (Dick Van Dyke’s role in the film). He’s something of the amiable ringmaster of ceremonies here. And nowhere are his lithe and limber capabilities more  apparent than in the thrilling ensemble number, Step in Time, wherein he’s literally soaring above the crowd, gingerly stepping across the twirling tops of wire brooms held aloft by his fellow Chimney Sweeps. An equally enchanted scene ensues a little earlier in Act Two as Michael (Adam Petrosino) gleefully guides a spot-lighted kite that dances in the air above the stage during Let’s Go Fly a Kite.

   Among other delectable highlights are the hilarious performances by Julie Connair and Matthew Heppe as the easily-panicked household servants; Joey Cogan as both an animated marble statue in the park and Jane’s haunted toy doll, Valentine; and Annie Giancola as the stern and spooky Miss Andrew, a “holy terror” of a nanny who can sing with operatic intensity.

    It’s far more than just a spoonful of sugar that makes Mary Poppins’ magical medicine go down with such efficacious and certainly entertaining, results. Sweet, even syrupy, to be sure. But more importantly, this wondrous concoction is also laced through and through with an earnest message of real kindness and compassion – enough to soften the hardest of hearts “…in a most delightful way.”     

    Mary Poppins, at Players Guild Theatre, 1001Market Avenue N., Canton, Ohio/ THROUGH MAY 29 / Shows at 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday / Tickets: $26 adults, $23 seniors, $19 ages 17 and younger,  at 330.453.7617 or  www.playersguildtheatre.com


    PHOTO, courtesy Scott Heckel, Canton Repository: Justin Edenhofer as Bert, and Meg Martinez as Mary Poppins