Ｃａｎｇé

JOHN CHINAMAN — Director: @ethanachoi DP: @kevinbfeng Producer: @gavincorneliusedmonds 📸: @brendanrains

Sharing the stage with some amazing talent this Dec 5th -15th @paradisefactorytheater Written by: @ricks_backpack & @patchesaloha Directed by: @lavidaterrible Poster & Set Design: @helenehelleu Stage Manager: @georgewilsonwaller Photos: @jameskolsby SYNOPSIS: Somewhere in Northern Michigan, three ice fishing buddies and their wives attempt to reintegrate a troubled friend after an unspoken accident that fractured their group. When Mason, their self-appointed leader, gathers everyone at his prized fishing spot, unexpected truths rise to the surface. Performance Details: The play runs at the Paradise Factory (64 East 4th Street, East Village) for two weeks: • December 5th - 7th: 8pm • December 8th: 3pm • December 12th - 14th: 8pm • December 15th: 3pm Tickets are $25 and can be purchased via Eventbrite, with discounted tickets for students.

Poetry film directed by @noasamassa @image_noa Poem @jephcange Model: @madisonmoehling @musemodels Dress @batshevadress Music by @arvopartproject

“Birds Don’t Sing” (Birds Don’t Sing, No 1) A reflection on the side effects of the Luigi Mangione incident and the vulnerabilities it has revealed within the public. This work examines the fear unlocked for the one percent—fear that can now be weaponized with unmatched resources against a society unequipped to resist. It is a meditation on power, suppression, and the widening chasm between those with limitless resources and those left to navigate fractured systems without preparation or protection. Artist: Lamartinière Cangé Medium: Mixed Media, Digital Photograph Year: 2024 Dimensions: Variable dimensions Poem: They strangle birds when they sing Alabaster seas weep— where we used to rest from it all. The ocean was the last refuge, gone. Blood cocktails at the party, pieces of you as amuse bouche. They won’t even clean their hands. They strangle birds when they sing You’ll die on that aria. Burn cages while you sleep. Set fire to hymns, melodies— Did you consider that opera? They strangle birds when they sing. We’re nowhere near war-ready The curtains are shut. They kept the last Canary. Should’ve kept that one note to yourself, shared it with us later. I could hear his song fainting behind the bloody cocktails. They’re strangling birds when they sing. They’re all scared. The crowd’s gone wild— too stupid to see the problem with them being scared. Wait— till they start to strangle birds when they sing. They strangle birds when they’re sick, the really pretty ones who mentions their name in verse, and burn their Monopoly money. Justice looks different now. She has a guillotine dress, a machete, 45 with a silencer. A pretty smile and a Citi Bike. She’s rich and educated— the hot girl that fucked you when you didn’t deserve it. Strangling birds when they sing. The killing, the killing. Hush. We weren’t ready. The killing, the killing. Their killing, their killing. All of us. We have no army, leaders, rations. Just anger, tweets, think pieces, content. So… These birds— they’ll strangle now, before they sing. Price: One Canary’s Song

Leak Say it before the curtain Before the crowd leaves Trees turn, leaves Sun turn eves Before you’re the breeze In someone’s summer Breathing through time Clearing out space Unseen I can hear them all now - Cangé