...FORGOTTEN ARTIST PRODUCTIONS...™
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videos by ...Forgotten Artist Productions...

1. An Introduction To ...forgotten artist productions...
2. Reasons For Starting ...forgotten artist productions...
3. Launch Party On December 06, 2014
4. Launch Party on December 06, 2014 - Jess Erick
5. Launch Party on December 06, 2014 - Reading from WHERE ART LIVES
6. Promo Video - WHERE ART LIVES
7. Videos From The Production Of WHERE ART LIVES - March 2015
A. Opening and Scene 1
B. Scene 3
C. Scene 5
D. Scene 8
E. Scene 9
F. Scene 10
G. Curtain Call and Credits
8. Short Video Promo for NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND and The Photography of Mike Hoskins - 2015
9. Short Video of The Photography of Mike Hoskins - NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - August 2015
10. Rehearsal Video For The Theatre Production Of "Eliminated." October 2015.
​11. Promo Video For The Theatre Production Of "Eliminated." October 2015.
​12. "Eliminated" Short Film Teasers. 2016.
​13. "Thumb Wrestler" Short Film Trailers. 2017.
​14. Promo - FIFTEEN MINUTES WITH ELLEN - Planet Connections Theatre Festivity - 2017.
​15. Facebook Live Promo - FIFTEEN MINUTES WITH ELLEN - Planet Connections Theatre Festivity - 2017.
​16. "Thumb Wrestler 2" Short Film Trailer. 2018.
17. Script/Story Analysis Class Promo Video. 2018.
18. "Jordey The Movie" Short Film Trailer. 2019.
19. Clips from the "Jazz John" Film Shoot. 2019.
20. Eliminated (Entire Short Film)
21. Jordey The Movie (Entire Short Film)
22. Script and Story Analysis Class Online (Sample Lesson)
23. Literature As Activism For Inequality Class Online (Sample Lesson)
24. Forgotten Artist Studio and Education Promo 1

VIDEOS ABOUT ...forgotten artist productions...


PHOTO Gallery

1. Saturday, December 06, 2014 Launch Party/Fundraiser
2. WHERE ART LIVES Rehearsal Photos - 2015
3. WHERE ART LIVES - Production Photos - 2015
4. Photos By Michael (Mike) Hoskins (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - August 2015)
5. Photos of Ben Pease (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - September 2015)
6. Photos of Craig Fox (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - October 2015)
7. Photos From The Theatre Production Of "Eliminated." October 2015. 
8. Photos Of Roberto Bonazzi And His Literary Work (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - November 2015)
9. Photos Of Lauren Brickman And Her Acting/Improvisation/Writing (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - December 2015)
10. Photos Of Alex McFarlane (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - January 2016)
11. Photos of Robert "Maddadan" Wilson (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - Spring 2016, Summer 2016, Fall 2016, Winter 2017, Spring 2017, and Summer 2017)
12. Photos for the Film Production of "Eliminated" - 2016
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13. Photo from the Reading of FIFTEEN MINUTES WITH ELLEN - August 2016
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14. Photos from the Film Production of "Thumb Wrestler" - 2016
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15. Photos from the Theatre Production of FIFTEEN MINUTES WITH ELLEN - 2017
16. Photos from the Film Production of "Thumb Wrestler 2" - 2017
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17. Photos from the Film Production of "Oatmelio's" - 2018
18. Photos from the Film Production of "Jazz John" - 2019
19. Photos from the Short Film  "Jordey The Movie" - 2019
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Video Gallery

1. Videos by Ben Pease (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - September 2015)
2. Videos About Roberto Bonazzi And His Literary Work  (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - November 2015)
3. Videos About Lauren Brickman And Her Acting/Improvisation/Writing (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - December 2015)
4. Official Music Video, Boss Man, by Robert "Maddadan" Wilson  (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - Spring 2016, Summer 2016, Fall 2016, Winter 2017, Spring 2017, and Summer 2017)

Art Gallery

1. Images of Art by Alex McFarlane (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - January 2016)

Literary Gallery

1. Poems by Ben Pease (NO ARTIST LEFT BEHIND - September 2015)
Reprinted from:

Brooklyn Poets
since 1855

POET OF THE WEEK
BEN PEASE

December 15-21, 2014


_

Chateau Wichman VII

stuck in a game
                          of hot potato
 between rapture and dismay
 The Wichman found
 both hands
                        burned
 heard a knocking
    definitely at his door
       felt his heart at once
 expanding
           and shrinking
 as when one squeezes
          a water balloon
 too hard off-center 

              was The Wichman’s
 great desire
               realizing itself
 or was this all a cruel
       dream or joke
 put on by these
           Sage Editors
       who only bothered him
 with scraps of potential
           propaganda
 kept mentioning how he
           possessed THE MANIFOLD
                                            MIND
 which didn’t interest The Wichman
               in the slightest
 though it assured him
          the Sage Editors understood
 The Wichman himself
                                  was mythologically
                            inadequate as is
 
most recently The Wichman
                found a slip of paper magneted
 to the fridge which he read aloud
 
memorize this
 
Here Men From The Planet Earth
 First Set Foot Upon The Moon
 We Came In Peace For All Mankind
 Neil A Armstrong
 Astronaut
 Michael Collins
 Astronaut
 Edwin E Aldrin Jr
 Astronaut
 Richard Nixon
 President
 United States Of America 

but The Wichman wasn’t thinking
      too hard about all this
           he happened to be
 staring      at the front door
                    he always failed
                    to lock
 its hinges the same
           as any other
 today they glided open
         as if strung with pearls
 
a most high
           a most radiant
 light           bore through it
      like a hole carved
                   into the heart
 of a mountain
           to illuminate
 the dwarven king’s grave
 
even though the hallway
           was windowless
 and without any kind
           of light rigging
 The Wichman
                          would claim
 til the day he died
           he could only
 make out
                a silhouette
      of a woman
 
she irritated him
 she repulsed him
 she made rise
                  the crest
 of his right eyebrow
 
a woman
                   a woman
      with a potato-juice
 tan dressed in a (unfortunately
 for The Wichman’s aversion
      to red) rosebud
           negligee with
      a gumball-machine
           gold necklace
      reading DAPHNE
        in foxtail cursive 

The Wichman had seen this name
                   freshly affixed
 in red embossing tape
                on the buzzer downstairs
 
Daphne caressed her arms
          as if she were rolling up her sleeves
 and said “why don’t you come over
                                  for a smoke”
 The Wichman would never
                     decline an invitation
 but stipulated “I will only
                go as far as the threshing floor”
 he received a metal cigarette
           in his palm and thought “who
 can behold these two hands
      of mine
                      who can steady
 this [manifold] mind?”
Reprinted from:

notnostrums 6

Ben Pease


_

Chateau Wichman XII


The TV flickered on startling The Wichman out of his thinking man pose. He couldn't tell how he got there, if he was beside or outside himself or why every channel had nothing but a black screen and the thrum of a female operatic choir. The Wichman tried to mute the damned thing but the voices rose out of various antique radios he at one time liked to collect. He picked up the phone to complain but the voices were there too. He went to his closet to find a hammer or book suitable for smashing, but the voices came from all directions, filled every appliance in every house and flooded the streets so The Wichman decided he had no choice but to sit back and listen, and he might as well watch too. The Wichman enjoyed staring into the black screen, it reminded him of when the world all at once spoke to him. The screen flashed white, an American Flag flapping in the wind, then the voices in unison broke into speech. 

There was something formless and perfect
before the universe was born.
It is serene. Empty.
Solitary. Unchanging.
Infinite. Eternally present.
It is the mother of the universe.
For lack of a better name,
I call it The Wichman.


A street sweeper shoots down one side as the cars one by one return to their parking spaces. The voices return to a thrum, cut to the replay from the football game, the ball end over end sailing upwards until it is freeze-framed within the moon, the female choir again compelled to words.

The moon allows things to happen.
She shapes events as they come.
She steps out of the way
and lets The Wichman speak for itself.


Above the freshly re-parked cars, a red and blue cyclone parallel to the ground rushes through the air. The crowd waiting at the bus stop scatters into nearby bars and shops, those stuck in their cars crouch beneath steering wheels and cover their heads with their hands. The Wichman stands prominent in the middle of the street, looks around dazed, smiles. The far-winged bluebirds sound out from the aviary double helix and cheer The Wichman. The cardinals chip-chip with delight. Drowning the incessant drones of the choir, the birds whirlpool around The Wichman, each cardinal intertwining with a bluebird, filling the street with feathers, blinding the camera until all is again white. The American Flag waves across the screen, and the songs of the birds are stilled in favor of the choir:

The moon does her job
and then stops.
She understands that the universe
is forever out of control,
and that trying to dominate events
goes against the current of The Wichman.

Reprinted from:

BORT QUARTERLY

Ben Pease

from Fugitives of Speech

Book 1: Ludlow Resevoirs V.

Book 2: Fools of Inconsequence VIII.

_

Ludlow Resevoirs V.

hushed voices from the dark side 
of fate’s rotunda curved or rushed

to Mallender’s ear if he liked it or not
elusive notes of the future

Mallender placed his abilities 
on the spectrum of clairvoyance

nowhere near the galaxy-spanning 
prescience of Paul Atriedes and co.

from the Dune universe but also never 
had he encountered Dead Zone nightmares 

of a thousand hands upon him 
each hand another grim certainty

Mallender instead saw his gift 
as similar to Peter Boyle’s character

in the X-Files episode 
“Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose” 

where a serial killer hunted down 
all variety of seers soothsayers and mystics

but Clyde Bruckman stood out
as the most believable

(not only in his admiration of Scully)
but once in someone’s presence

an accurate vision
of their death became clear

the closer the person the closer the fate    
Mallender began to say (to himself)

and though Mallender could only see 
immediate futures of no particular importantance

they all lingered in his mind 
each future a two-tone chorus

in a gallery of voices
thus Mallender cherished Jo-Ann Fabrics

for the low-tide possibilities 
of its customers

old folks with nothing to bar them
from 5 hours with their “NORMAL

is only a setting on the dryer” needlepoint
midwinters of mile-a-minute afghans

even the “pine on black” holiday napkins
that never quite make it out the linen closet

crazy quilts of dead men’s shirts
all provided Mallender something soft

and certain where he could rest
his over-stimulated mind

Mallender could see Jean walking back
as she did every Thursday

from the outdoor ATM
slipping the $20 into her front-apron pocket

he could smell that party sized-pizza 
half double cheese half combo

sub hamburg for the pepperoni
sub onions for red onions

what the occasion Mallender was not certain
but it was vital that he eventually be invited

to find purpose for his visions
he had to go and make a new friend
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