Philadelphia

Artists in residence (Philadelphia Inquirer)

Krista Peel and Zak Starer live what they call "the perfect life."

Until eight months ago, that meant handing over their West Philadelphia apartment to complete strangers every two weeks while they stayed with friends.

These days, the young married couple still share their space with others - only now, they don't have to leave home to do so.

As founders and codirectors of the Philadelphia Art Hotel, Peel and Starer run a rent-free artist studio and residency out of their spacious East Kensington rowhouse. In return for two to six weeks of housing and studio space, the artists need only donate some of their work to the house, making an already vivid interior color scheme abundantly rich. (The bright yellow window frames of the Art Hotel already stand out on the city block.)

But during the six months of the year when they host their carefully chosen pool of 12 to 16 national and international artists, Peel and Starer also reap other, intangible benefits.

"When I think about my perfect day, it includes making art a part of my lifestyle," said Peel, 36. "Zak and I are both artists, so we wanted to be connected to other artists and talk about artwork on a regular basis. But we didn't want to run a gallery - we wanted a more private space."

Dawg Years (Philadelphia Inquirer)

The list of names posted on the wall at the Skate Zone was Jean Shea's first indication that her dodgeball team was not like the others.

One by one, she read the other teams' attempts at anatomical-parts puns (think anything involving the word balls). A peek into the gym confirmed it: Her team, the G-rated "Ball Dawgs," was poised to be annihilated - by a bunch of teenagers.

Of the 24 teams that signed up for the spring competitive dodgeball session in Voorhees, only Shea's group - now affectionately dubbed by others in the Glory Days Sports league as "Team AARP" - has players older than 40.

As expected, the Ball Dawgs were pummeled that first day. But three months into the season, the team of Haddonfield husbands and wives - the oldest player is 55 - has stuck with it, earning some grudging admiration from their younger opponents as well as a respectable eighth-place standing in the weekly league.

While the Ball Dawgs' competition might look forward to going head-to-head with a team their parents' age, not everyone thought dodgeball for geezers was such a good idea.

"My 18-year-old daughter was totally embarrassed that her parents were out there playing dodgeball against a bunch of kids her age," said Reg Blaber, 47. "We really had to work hard out there to earn her respect."

Geocachers get around (Philadelphia Inquirer)

They travel in packs, noses just inches away from GPS screens. Suddenly, "I found it!", one boy announces, grinning and peeling away from the group of a half dozen. The others intensify their focus. "Me too!", shouts another a moment later, until all six kids are crowded around a tree on Girard Avenue, pulling out from a knot a plastic screw-top bottle painted to resemble tree bark. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but everyone gathers around, eager to see what's inside.

This is geocaching (JEE-oh-cash-ing), a high-tech game played using coordinates and global positioning systems to find hidden "treasure." It's open to anyone - hiders or seekers - with a GPS and access to www.geocaching.com, where more than half a million registered users download and upload the coordinates of nearly 1 million hidden caches and relate their experiences from this worldwide scavenger hunt.

Although some adventures can take hours or even days, the contents inside the actual cache are rarely valuable - many times just a logbook and a small, worthless trinket.

Women building home-repair skills

Nothing elicits squeals of delight like a power tool, says do-it-yourselfer Shelly Halloran.

As program director for the Philadelphia branch of Habitat for Humanity, Halloran frequently witnesses the excitement that accompanies someone's first attempt at correctly pounding home a nail or using a screw gun - doubled in intensity when the builder is female.

Women Build, an international program offered through Habitat for Humanity, encourages women to get involved in construction work by providing basic hands-on training and organizing women-specific job sites.

In Philadelphia, an active female volunteer force prompted the initiation of a twice-yearly, hands-on construction course in 2007, designed to introduce women to power tools, drywall, flooring and roofing techniques, and basic home-repair skills. Lauren Mariani, a carpenter with Mariani Carpentry L.L.C. and a former AmeriCorps volunteer with Habitat, developed the course, which next will be offered Feb. 20 to March 13 at the Habitat warehouse near 19th and West Berks Streets.

Seasoned Choreography on Young Shoulders

Movement trumped emotion in BalletX's November program at the Wilma Theater, featuring three world premieres that frequently relied on pace, rather than interpretation to transmit.

With all-star choreographer Matthew Neenan (co-artistic director with Christine Cox) providing consistent works supplemented by guest choreographers of note, BalletX programs have become known for their edgy playfulness, danced by some of the city's ballet veterans. The November program however, hosted a cast of new faces, many of whom have not gone through the traditional rite of passage of Pennsylvania Ballet corps dancing. The new lineup featured the kind of quick, athletic energy that was suited to technical pieces; missing however, was the grace accrued through seasons of performances.

Meredith Rainey, whose own long, sleek lines are as familiar as Neenan's quirky flexed-foot stylings, experimented with androgyny in his ocean-wave inspired "They Break," with floating costumes designed by Martha Chamberlain that purposefully disguised male from female. By eliminating gender, the dancers were able to mirror each other's moves without regard to traditional roles, and some of the best segments in "They Break" occurred in the bold, daring leaps executed. Rainey favored strong, reactive lines which sometimes descended into domino-like chaos, counteracted with facial expressions that were blank to the point of being belligerent.

The Serious Business of Being Funny

Most kids want to run away to join the circus at some stage in their lives. Lorenzo Pisoni ran away from the circus —  in footie pajamas.

The  mental picture of a young Lorenzo shuffling down the highway in PJs is humorous, but the scenario is representative of the serious themes behind the schtick: the father-son relationship on view in Philadelphia Theatre Company's one-man show Humor Abuse. Directed by Pisoni's college friend Erica Schmidt, Humor Abuse is a mostly true account of Pisoni's childhood growing up the son of two circus performers. Throughout the production, Pisoni performs pratfalls and physical gags, falls off of ladders, springs out of trunks, wears flippers, does back flips and employs an entire repertoire of physical humor — all of it handed down from his father, the professional clown Larry Pisoni.

The physical timing is first-rate, and Pisoni's 20 years of circus training and performance serves him well in this production. It's entirely possible to treat Humor Abuse as a behind-the-scenes tour of your very own circus, but the show also places a father-son relationship literally in the spotlight, showing the ragged edges hidden behind even the most sequined performers.

Polo: No Princes or Ponies (Philadelphia Inquirer)

Dubbed "The Game of Kings" in sixth-century Persia, polo still conjures visions of manicured lawns, tight white breeches, and rows of gleaming horses.

Not so at a grubby little roller-hockey rink at Front Street and Washington Avenue.

"3-2-1-GO!" a voice bellows from the sidelines, and six polo players fly toward center court, racing to gain possession of the ball. Two players reach the center at the same time, scrabbling for control. A third player joins the fray, steals the ball, is catapulted through the air, and lands on the ground, mallet still in hand.

But in this game, nobody goes to catch the horse. The fallen player dusts himself off, collects his "steed" - a retrofitted, beat-up Schwinn - and pedals back into the game. This is hardcourt bike polo, and there's no time for licking wounds.

Or for extraneous rules. Although the game is a combination of equestrian polo and grass polo - a dignified, centuries-old bicycle game that even had a cameo appearance in the 1908 London Olympics - hardcourt functions on the less-is-more philosophy. The game's official origins can be traced back to about 1999 in Seattle, but details still are being ironed out.

"The game mutates with every new city it hits," said Peter Dalkner, 32, a mechanic at Trophy Bikes on Walnut Street. "Everyone brings a slightly different set of rules about game length, court surfaces, and regulations to the game, and they all meet somewhere in the middle. Usually."

Life, Liberty & the Pursuit of Polo

Work to Ride

Summertime And The Music Is Easy

    Summer orchestra programs seem generally be selected using one criterion: Will the program survive the beer and blanket test? As in, will the music stand up to the distractions of the summer season at the Mann, where themed picnics and fireworks tend to leave a longer-lasting impression than the music itself?

    Under the direction of Grant Llewellyn on Tuesday night, the Philadelphia Orchestra opened a two-week run of the expected popular favorites and crowd-pleasers, while also plugging the lesser-known work of Erich Wolfgang Korngold, a shining star in a program that luxuriated in easy-listening favorites.

    Easing into the program with Strauss' “On the Beautiful Blue Danube,” Llewellyn cruised at a relaxed pace that pleasantly contrasted the oom-pah-pahing that too often characterizes this piece. The languid tempo, though the perfect accompaniment for picnics and summer crowds, took its toll close to the end, however, as the final few bars came to their rather abrupt crescendo, taking the low strings seemingly by surprise at the work's close.

Totes Hold Their Own As Art (Philadelphia Inquirer)

The routine used to be mindless - "Paper or plastic?" - as much a part of the shopping ritual as endless check-out lines and squeaky grocery carts.

Now you're more likely to hear "Did you bring your own bag?", often prompting an embarrassed look and a mumbled, "Must've left it in the car."

While shoppers are queried by cashiers and City Council hashes out a possible plastic-bag ban, one group is poised to capitalize on the public's growing conscience - reusable bag makers.

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