Kathryn was a dedicated teacher and student advocate at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, as well as other institutions in Chicago and beyond. If you have been a student of Kathryn's and wish to contribute a reflection about her, or your experience working with her, please post your comment. She touched many of our lives not only personally, but professionally as well, through the significant reviews and essays she wrote. We are all affected by this tragic loss.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
know girl
Kathryn's sound pieces revealed her dry, ironic (but never cynical or sarcastic) extremely playful humor, impeccable sensitivity to the textural/musical qualities of sound, and vision as a composer. I'll never forget my first experience of Kathryn's work during one of Bob Snyder's classes--a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne," as sung by a synthesized chorus of barking dogs. It was quite something.
And I don't know if very many people knew that Kathryn graduated with one of the top fellowship awards for her sound compositions. I vaguely recall this as a suite of 3 or 4 short musical pieces arranged on the School's first digital synthesizer. I really hope that somewhere, somehow, someone will find the audio tapes... I'm sure they must still exist... somewhere.
I actually did not know Kathryn very well until shortly after our SAIC days. I mainly knew her through my friend and sound instructor Wayne Fielding. They were renowned and much in demand in our circles as the ultra-cool DJ duo, yb + know girl... their mastery of the turntables and dance mixes were kind of transcendent.... I'm certain Prince would have approved (I wonder if they had met).
I was fortunate enough to have Kathryn loan her talents as a pianist to some of my early performances. At the 1986 (or was it 1987?) New Music Chicago Festival, she performed a mesmerizing Moonlight Sonata that somehow transmuted into my punk choral cover of Paul Anka's "You're Having My Baby" (and we were nearly thrown off the stage by the "serious" composers who organized the event). She also created a stellar adaptation of "Stranger in Paradise" for my opera "The Martha," as "sung" by a Brazilian art history grad student who had never set foot on stage before... or probably since.
Wayne, Kathryn and I joined forces in creating a modestly anarchic operatic performance at Chicago Filmmakers, "The Honeymoon," which, in so many words, was a convergence of the Jackie Gleason sitcom "The Honeymooners" with Lacan, Derrida, Lyotard and Kristeva, Robert Wilson and Philip Glass... a one-night run that we never even considered documenting. It was one of those pieces where performers outnumbered the audience, but we had such a joy working together (especially brainstorming in front of the murky aquarium at Rossi's Liquors on State and Hubbard), the rest didn't really matter.
It took me a while to realize that Kathryn also happened to be an art critic...
... and I can't believe you're gone.
Funny As All Hell...
In 1993 Kathryn reviewed an exhibition of mine for FlashArt. It was typical of her writing: thoughtful, pithy and with some wonderful turns of phrase. Reading it today, I am struck still by its clarity about the explicit and implicit intentions of that work.
Artists loved to have Kathryn write about their work. She was a great listener, in the normal sense with her ears, but more importantly for artists, with her eyes. She had an unusual and highly perceptive intelligence and one always felt strongly her excitement about ideas and the folks who try to make art of them. She never pulled any punches if she disagreed with you, but could be so persuasive that often you ended up agreeing with her. If in the end your difference of opinion was intractable, you never felt it was for lack of a fair hearing, nor because of an unexamined dogma on her part.
Did I mention that she was funny as all hell?
Kathryn and I shared the camaraderie of Texans who had happily chosen to live elsewhere. When and where we grew up, one of the highest compliments that you could pay a woman was to call her an iron hand in a velvet glove. The origins of that colorful phrase are debated, but there’s a consistent association with Napoleon and his idea of effective and desirable autocratic rule. When Texans used this expression in the past, it was in reference to a woman who was eminently likable by virtue of her congeniality and charm, yet very imposing by virtue of her intellect, character and will. It was a combination that was unexpected (god only knows why) and for that reason, all the more subversive, powerful and praiseworthy.
That was Kathryn.
Did I mention that she was funny as all hell?
Monday, November 22, 2010
Kathryn and Opera
While I have known Kathryn for many years, my fondest memories are from the years when she, Susan Peterson, and I ignored our relative poverty and bought season tickets to the Lyric Opera. Each year when renewing we would decide that we must, actually, go with better seats. We wanted the music to envelop us completely. It was worth the added cost. After all anything could happen so we should allow ourselves this necessary indulgence. Kathryn, I remember, particularly loved Turandot by Puccini, and the deep voice of Samuel Ramey. After each performance we would go out until late and revisit the rich beauty of the evening. So when I think of Kathryn I think of those wonderful evenings, and when I hear the arias of Turandot, I think of her. Perhaps you could play something for her.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Kathryn Interview
Saturday, November 20, 2010
MEMORIAL SERVICE
Tuesday, December 14, 2010 from 5-8 p.m.
SAIC Ballroom, 112 S Michigan Ave, Chicago, IL 60603