I’ll never look at paper dolls the same again.  That’s because I recently befriended the greatest living creator of the art form, 83-year old Tom Tierney.

Now I certainly didn’t go looking to chat up a paper doll artist, which made the whole experience all the more special.  Here’s the story…

My boyfriend Doug and I were driving from Houston to Austin last Sunday, and stopped in the little town of Smithville, population c. 4,456.  We’d been told it was the best place to browse antique shops while en route.  Junk stores is more what Doug considered them.  But it was a typically warm and sunny Texas day and Smithville’s Main Street was clean and well preserved.  (“Tree of Life” is one of the many films made there.)  A nice break in the drive.  One lady shop keeper was particularly friendly and said to be sure to check the little store around the corner, which she described as “more European.”  We didn’t know if that meant better quality or more gay.  But it was just steps away.

As soon as we entered, the gentlemanly old proprietor offered us freshly brewed coffee.  It was a tiny shop and we didn’t plan to stay long, and so we politely declined.  But the other friendly older man in the shop, seated and smiling, soon started chatting us up.  Where are you from, what do you do, etc.  And he was as generous with information about himself as he was inquiring about us.  He had a shop over on Main Street where he sold his line of paper dolls, though the place was closed on Sunday.

Actually, the same friend who recommended we stop in Smithville for the antiques also mentioned the paper doll shop.  At the time that really went in one ear and out the other, but there in front of us was the paper doll man himself, Tom Tierney.  He was irresistibly good natured and full of stories, starting with how Liz Smith, the gossip columnist and native Texan, once recommended his work on television, talking about how on a recent visit to the White House she showed his book of Clinton paper dolls to Hillary, who remarked that he got them just about right, underwear and all.  “That was pretty great publicity and I just happened to catch it on TV,” he recounted with some understated pride.  When I inquired about the extent of his work, he said that the Clinton paper dolls are one of over 500 books of paper dolls that he’s produced over the years.

After hearing that it didn’t take much to persuade Tom to open up the shop to give us a look see.  Soon we were strolling half a block down the gravel alley and being escorted through the back entrance.  He actually lives in the rear of the shop (zoning restrictions aren’t too strict in Smithville, he said), and so on the way in we saw some of his large paintings hanging in the private space.

The shop is officially named Shangri-la Emporium and includes sundry tchotchkes and a rather sizable array of Hindu statues.  But the heart of the business is the large display of paper doll books.

Tom Tierney’s background as a fashion illustrator and years of accomplishments with paper dolls are well known, at least to those who follow such things.  Once I laid eyes on the colorful merchandise, I realized I’d glanced past them countless times in souvenir and gift shops over the years.

Although only a portion of his life’s work was on display here in Smithville, it was darned impressive.  Soon he was showing us the William and Kate paper dolls, the Obama paper dolls, the vampire paper dolls (with Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and the whole “Twilight” crew), and the fashion designer paper dolls, including runway looks by Dior, Chanel and McQueen. And on and on and on.

Somehow Tom knew to hand me a couple of the more gay-themed paper dolls, which I ended up purchasing.   “Life’s a Drag!” is subtitled “a campy salute to the cross-dressing stars of film and television” and features Milton Berle, Jerry Lewis, Julie Andrews (“Victor Victoria”), Dustin Hoffman (“Tootsie”), Barbra Streisand (“Yentl”), Robin Williams (“Mrs. Doubtfire”), Nathan Lane (“The Birdcage”), and John Travolta (“Hairspray”), among others.   A more risque publication is “Attitude: An Adult Paperdoll Book,” which is structured like a Greenwich Village cocktail party c. 1979. First we meet our hostess, Auntie Mary (“She’s load of fun,” reads the brief deadpan narrative), and then all her charming friends, including leather queens and muscle queens, some rough trade and cute little twinks, plus more than a few tired old queens. Every one of these books has the same formate: a figure on the left in their skivvies with their choice attire on the right, ready for cutting out and playing dress-up.

Before we knew it, we were following Tom up the back staircase and into his studio where we got to see scores of original illustrations, some published and some not.  Where the “Attitude” book was suggestive, there’s also a large and unpublished body of Tom Tierney work that’s more overt but still meticulous and beautiful.  Tennessee Williams, James Dean, Andy Warhol and Rock Hudson are just some of the figures from gay history that Tom’s depicted with his same careful hand and loving eye – and, mind you, without their skivvies.

Throughout all of this show and tell, Tom recounted one terrific story after another from his decades in New York through to his recent semi-retirement back home to Texas.  (Just one example:  Tennessee Williams was a friend of a friend and Tom ended up making them breakfast on Saturday mornings while they met to work on a project.) But time was running short and Doug and I were expected in Austin.  And so we had to hit the road, but only after getting our purchases autographed by Tom, sharing hugs and promising to stay in touch.

The hour or so in Smithville, sandwiched as it was in between a pleasant weekend with friends in Houston and a few days of family obligations in Austin, turned out to be a highlight of our trip.  And it wouldn’t have happened if we’d not taken those few steps off the Main Street of Smithville and if we’d not been open to a conversation with a friendly old fellow.  Really, it’s anyone’s guess where you’ll find a new friend or a slice of vibrant queer culture.

The only camera I had on hand was in my phone, but I couldn’t resist snapping a few things…

Tom was quiet a looker in his youth, as shown in these photos by Richard Avedon:

Many of Tom’s stories involved getting an approval or a blessing from those who’s images he rendered in paper doll form.  This is a detail of an autographed Erte poster:

With my new friend Tom:

Arenas died of AIDS in 1990 at age 47 and the epidemic still seems potent material for musical exploration.  Just two years ago the Fort Worth Opera mounted the operatic version of “Angels in America.”   But AIDS is almost a minor topic in the new three hour-long work.  Freedom — artistic and sexual — is the more dominate theme.

From his bed Arenas pleads for his two muses, played by sopranos in glittery ball gowns and beehive hairdos, to take him back to his youth.  Soon he’s cavorting on the beaches of Cuba and we follow his entanglement in revolutionary politics, pursuit of love and companionship, and achievement of international fame with the overseas publication of his visionary writing.

The young baritone Wes Mason played Arenas with remarkable vocal stamina and  physical dexterity to give a vivid portrait of the character’s playful creativity and steely constitution.  The singing quality of the mostly young supporting cast, though, was very uneven.   Bass-baritone Seth Mease Carico played the revolutionary officer Victor with terrific strength and clarity and Jesus Garcia, as a fellow writer, was suitable though a bit anonymous.  Tenor Jonathan Blalock, as one of Arenas’s lovers, sang with a reedy, disembodied voice and soprano Janice Hall’s one scene as the mother was just unpleasant.   A hearty chorus of about 30 was dispatched as a militant band in the first half and disco revelers near the end.

The Manhattan and Cuban locales were evoked by projections on various scrims, which after a while gave the production a weightless, floating quality.  Riccardo Hernandez was credited with scenic design and Peter Nigrini with projections.  Maybe they intended their imagery to foreshadow Arenas’ troubled life, but the beach scenes always had a heavily clouded sky and overly bluish cast.   The stage of Bass Hall also just felt too big for the piece, with many performers exiting with long dashes into the wings.  The two all male dance numbers by choreographer John de los Santos were acrobatic, choppy, and rigid, while the narrative and Martin’s lush scoring called for sensuality and seduction.

There’s plenty of Latin dance rhythms throughout and overall the opera’s pacing is quick with lots of short scenes that keep things moving. Martin’s orchestration is traditional but sometimes daringly light and understated.  Some pivotal choruses and ensembles were performed a capella.

The composer made his own libretto with assistance from Dolores M. Koch, who was a translator of Arenas’ writings.  Too often they have the characters announcing their feelings rather then trusting the music to communicate the emotions.  But in a rare accomplishment, almost every word is intelligible — a testament to both the singers and Martin’s skill at setting text.  The supertitles, by the way, provided the English lyrics as well as a Spanish translation.

A beautiful tune comes in the first act when Arenas and a lover sing, “Oh, our unhappy island, when will your troubles be done?”  Near the end of the show, the emotional and political themes come together in the line: “My death notice came not from a tyrant but from my lovers.”

The opera itself seems bolder in its handling of gay content than does the production by director David Gately.  When Arenas applies for sanctuary in the U.S., he’s harshly questioned about his sexuality — even asked by an official if he’s a top or a bottom and ordered to swish about to prove he’s a fag.  (As if his hip huggers and loud flowered shirt weren’t enough.) It was an awkward and painful moment to watch but not unbelievable either.

So why did the Fort Worth audience laugh?  There was nothing particularly campy or clownish in Mason’s movement and his face communicated shame.  Giving the audience the benefit of the doubt, perhaps it was a collective discomfort that came out as a chuckle.

Such powerful material in the libretto and score only highlighted the contrast to the staging, which played it safe with gay sensuality.  There were only two male-to-male kisses in the entire production. Both were pecks on Arena’s forehead, more motherly than passionate. And then there were those stiff dance numbers, with the men knocking against each other almost like football players.

Fort Worth Texas might be the most conservative area of the country after Orange County California.

Seven people were arrested for drunkenness, though numerous reports say that the individuals were pulled from the crowd randomly and violently.  A 26-year old man was hospitalized with head injuries.

The event occurred on the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York.

Reports from Dallas Voice on the arrests and the ensuing investigations and protests:  7/1/09, 7/16/09, 8/7/09, 8/20/09, 10/30/09, 12/30/09

Meanwhile…

The one of the city’s premiere arts organizations, the Fort Worth Opera is gay, gay, gay.

And that’s not a redundancy. Just look at what they’re putting on stage.

In 2008 FWO presented the first full American staging of the operatic version of Tony Kushner’s landmark “Angels in America,” composed by Peter Eotvos.  A concurrent series of events throughout the Dallas-Fort Worth area was titled: “More Life: The Art & Science of AIDS.”

Ava Pine and David Adam Moore, Fort Worth Opera

And on Saturday night the Fort Worth Opera presents the world premiere of Jorge Martin’s “Before Night Falls,” based on the autobiography of Reinaldo Arenas. The gay Cuban writer died of AIDS in 1990 at age 47.  His memoir was published in English in 1993. A 2000 film version was directed by Julian Schnabel and starred Javier Bardem, who was nominated for an Academy Award.

Here’s composer Jorge Martin – a gay Cuban American who lives in Vermont – talking about writing an opera about a gay Cuban:

Other coverage:  Opera News: “Long Night of the Soul” by Adam Wasserman.

Synposis, biographies, background in FWO’s newsletter “Libretto”

“Before Night Falls” runs for two performances (May 29, June 6) in repertoire with the Fort Worth Opera’s other 2010 productions, “Don Giovani” (May 30, June 4) and “The Elixir of Love” (May 28, June 5).  Look for a review on this site after the June 6 performance.

Wes Mason as Reinaldo Arenas, Fort Worth Opera

Previously on MyBigGayEars:
Darren K. Woods, Administrative star and “turn around master”

The massive scale and varied themes of Melville’s classic novel have flummoxed many who’ve tried their hands at creative adaptations.  But Gene Schere’s libretto telescopes the drama to a handful of characters and the opera is a pretty good show, thanks especially to the work of director Leonard Foglia and scenic designer Robert Brill.

Most memorable are the projections which feature stars, maps and compasses, various views of ships large and small, plus lots and lots of water. We never see the whale.  Ropes and metal scaffolding often fill the proscenium and a few too many arias and duets are delivered from precarious heights above the stage as the singers grab tight to the ironwork, holding on for their lives.  The back wall slopes downward into the main playing area like a giant slide.  When ships crash, supernumeraries spill down it as if splashing into the water.

For much of the first act, which runs almost two hours, Heggie’s score surges like the sea with constant rhythmic life.  The music is always pleasant and tuneful and has some imaginative orchestral touches, such as the sound of whale’s spout created by a trumpet blown without a mouthpiece. The second act begins with a lively sea chanty.  But over all the opera floates on a shallow ocean.  There’s never much undercurrent to the orchestral writing nor much counterpoint to be found, even in the vocal parts despite plenty of ensemble numbers.

Star tenor Ben Hepner in the lead role of Captain Ahab deserves credit just for managing that peg leg.  He’s a hulking authoritative presence with a knitted brow, but certainly not any kind of menacing embodiment of evil. One wonders if he’d command so much stage attention if he wasn’t spotlighted all the time.  Musically the role has lots of melismatic lines, which Hepner sings with a rather unvaried mezzo-forte dynamic, until one hushed and arresting duet. That comes midway through the second act with baritone Morgan Smith, who has an attractive emotional and dynamic range and is the best of the supporting cast.

The other characters, always in Ahab’s orbit, are officers and sailors and one cabin boy played with style by the sole female in the cast, soprano Talise Travigne. The cast also includes bass Jonathan Lemalu as Queequeg, a quasi-shamanic figure, and tenor Stephen Costello as the introspective and troubled Greenhorn.  They all get a little stir crazy and seemingly every aria and scene ends with religious exhortation. The all-male environment, combined with the regular references to Christian values, makes the Pequod feel like a monastery on the water.

The large orchestra was conducted by Patrick Summer and played with surety and ease.  The acoustics of the 2,200-seat Winspear Opera House are proving to be a curious, however.  From a seat near the rear of the orchestral level, the sound of the instrumental ensemble seemed capped and distance.  Snatching seats on the fifth row after intermission solved that problem. But most of the theatrical tricks in “Moby Dick” came in the first half and a few too many introspective arias made the second act slow and disappointing, even if Ahab did finally spot that big white whale.

Following recommendations of friends, he spent that summer in the young artists program at the Seagle Music Colony outside the little Adirondack village of Schroon Lake in Essex County about 90 miles north of Albany.  Founded in 1915 by renowned baritone Oscar Seagle, the colony has offered generations of young singers a haven to study and grow before venturing on to professional careers.  It’s transformed Darren Woods’ life at least a couple of times now.

Woods did go on to a respectable singing career, performing with the New York City Opera and numerous other companies. But it was the role of J. Pierrepont Finch, the deft wheeler dealer in “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,” which he played during that one summer at the Seagle Colony, that really pointed to how Woods would ultimately make his mark in the operatic world.

First, in 1996 Woods returned to Schroon Lake to take a one-season appointment as general director of the Colony. He has remained its guiding force ever since and is widely credited with transforming an organization that was on the brink of closure.

Next, in 1999, Woods ended his performing career to become head of the Shreveport Opera in Louisiana. In a tenure of just 24 months he also saved that outfit from near extension.  And as general director of the Fort Worth Opera since July 2001, Woods has again brought vigor to a company once written off as provincial and moribund.  In a profile of Woods in its July issue, Opera News Magazine referred to his “national presence” and called him a “turnaround master.”

In addition to his duties in Fort Worth, Woods regularly gives master classes at universities across the country and frequently serves as a judge of auditions for the Metropolitan Opera National Council, the Richard Tucker Foundation, and other organizations. But he still summers at the Seagle Colony, where he now holds the title of artistic director. We spoke recently over coffee in Sarataga Springs.

“Opera is in me to the corps of my being,” he says. “I’m a servant to the art form.”

Such lofty language might suggest that Woods is working from some lyric libretto and longs to be back on stage. But his pronouncements are given with a sincere and matter of fact tone and spill out of him as fast as a Rossini overture.  Whether its identifying and encouraging good singers, knowing the vast operatic repertoire, or finessing rich folks out of their money, Woods seems always on his game.  His respective companies are the beneficiaries.

The year he took the reigns of the Seagle Colony, it gave three staged productions over five weeks, and operated on a budget of roughly $30,000.  This year, there are six productions, a nine-week season and a budget of nearly $575,000.

One of Woods’ first outreach efforts for Seagle was to churches — offering free music on Sunday mornings. “Mr. Seagle belonged to the Community Church and we provided soloists there since time immemorial,” explains Woods. “I thought, well why not sing in the Catholic Church too? I walked over and there were like a 1,000 people, while the Community Church had about 40. Soon the priest was announcing our performance schedule.  Now we sing at so many churches, everywhere from Putnam to Keene Valley, we can only provide (each congregation) about two Sundays per season.”

Education was Woods’ first focus in Shreveport. “I dreamed up a program to take opera to little kids in the sticks where there were no arts,” he recalls. “I made up a study guide and a brochure and we got literally $300,000 worth of bookings. So then I hired three singers and a director and we had the ‘Piped Piper’ and ‘Little Red Ridinghood’ and did everything I had laid out in the brochure. And it underwrote the mainstage productions.”

Though the job in Louisiana paid considerably less than he had been making as a singer, Woods thought the experience could serve as the equivalent to a masters degree in arts management. By the time Fort Worth came calling, he had developed considerable confidence.

“I went through a four-hour interview and was blatantly honest about what I knew of the company. The quality was in the tank,” he says. He went back to Shreveport thinking that was that.

Some six weeks later, in the midst of a summer at Seagle, he got a call back. This time, he spoke not just of impressions but gave assessments based on research.  “I said your repertoire here is old school and boring and if all you want to do is the top 20 operas just send me home now. You’ve not done Handel or Britten or anything 20th century except ‘Turnadot’ and that hardly counts. Plus you can’t afford the season you planned.”

In addition to the tough talk, he also passed around copies of a five-year plan.  And he got the job.

Woods has countless stories, both amusing and horrific, about rebuilding the board and the nearly 24-hour charm offensive it takes to raise enough funds to keep an opera company in the black.  But his results speak for themselves. He’s grown the company from a $2 million budget to the current level of about $4.5 million.

In 2007, with support from the local chamber of commerce, the Fort Worth Opera abandoned its traditional spring and fall seasons and concentrated its efforts into a compacted two-week “festival season.”  This past May, the lineup featured Bizet’s “Carmen,” Rossini’s “La Cenerentola” and “Dead Man Walking,” an acclaimed 2000 adaptation by Jack Heggie of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book by Sr. Helen Prejean about counseling a death row inmate.

After the season concluded, Scott Cantrell of the Dallas Morning News (former staff writer for the Times Union and a notoriously tough critic), wrote, “Fort Worth Opera has become one of the country’s premier opera festivals. No kidding… Give the credit to Darren K. Woods, who eight years ago took over the fragmented mess that was Fort Worth Opera.”

The recent Opera News article about Woods went further and voiced something that others in the field also foresee:  that in the coming years, Woods will likely be heading up one of the country’s major opera houses, such as Seattle, San Francisco or Houston.

While not dismissing the talk, Woods puts it as only a singer could: “There are some high notes I’ve still not hit.”

Yet he assured me that his connection to the Seagle Colony will endure.  With its centennial coming up in six years, some in Schroon Lake are talking of building a new theater.  Woods wants to build an endowment that will keep the program’s focus on young singers. And as the saying goes, he’s put his money where his (very active) mouth is. “This place is in my will,” he says.

A version of this story originally appeared in the Times Union.