Monday, June 7, 1998
Musical experience bridges gap
Description supplied for visually impaired
BY DEBORAH KENDRICK
The Cincinnati Enquirer
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Special shows
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Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, (421-3888), Broadway Series (241-2345), Ensemble Theater of Company (421-3555), Cincinnati Ballet (621-5219) and Cincinnati Opera (621-1919) all offer one audio described and one sign language performance for most shows. Contact individual theaters for dates and details.
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How do you describe what music is to someone who can't hear or what a sunset is to someone who can't see?
This is not a riddle. I do not have the answer. But a recent experience with the Broadway Series has reminded me of some of the mechanisms that sometimes bridge the gap.
Beauty and the Beast, the Broadway Series musical playing at the Aronoff Center for the Arts through June 28, is a spectacular and sense-appealing event. There is color, shape, music, sound, texture and action. To convey all of that to someone unable to see is possible, but no small feat.
Alerted that a group of blind and visually impaired patrons would be at the May 30 matinee, Kelly Florian, education coordinator for the Broadway Series, wanted to make the experience as meaningful for this one group as for all others.
Audio describer Lori Zakel of Dayton, Ohio, was scheduled to provide a running visual commentary of costumes, set, and action to visually impaired audience members.
This service consists of a trained describer speaking concise descriptions between dialogue and lyrics, which are then carried in headsets worn by visually impaired patrons.
Even a person with no vision can glean a great deal of information about actor movement, stage location and physical interactions.
As deaf people learn to ''listen'' with their eyes, blind people accustom themselves to ''seeing'' with their ears.
For a performance as sensual and full-bodied as Beauty and the Beast, my guess is that audio description alone may have kept the play in a more two-dimensional format.
In a specially arranged backstage tour prior to the show, however, this group of blind and visually impaired patrons enjoyed every dimension of the show from start to finish.
By climbing around set pieces, examining stairs, balcony supports and ornamentation, I was able to send that information through my hands to the visual center of my brain.
By handling a gigantic fork, an enormous coat, a wolf's mask and the beast's chair, I could ''see'' those details when they accompanied the music and dancing and actor movement, which I could hear for myself.
When the audio describer neatly slid verbal cues of visual happenings between the audible elements of the show, I was able to laugh (and cry) right on cue with others.
I have always loved the theater, and this particular experience is one I will remember fondly for a long time.
I and others with limited or no vision were able to appreciate it fully, because a few people were willing to extend themselves to put pictures into words and to attempt to grasp the concept that there is more than one way to ''see.''
Several years ago, a young deaf man who wrote lovely piano compositions told me that he knew how to create his music by the way it looked on the page.
To me - and perhaps to you - music is not an art to be appreciated by sight. Yet, I understood that for him, his eyes were the vehicles for transporting that in and out of his head.
It takes more work, but if you can't hear and want to love music, or can't see and care about the sunset, there is more than one way to get that image into your heart and mind.
Deborah Kendrick, a Cincinnati free-lance writer, is a nationally recognized advocate for people with disabilities. Write: Deborah Kendrick, Cincinnati Enquirer, 312 Elm St., Cincinnati 45202; e-mail: 71340.473@compuserve.com.
KENDRICK ARCHIVE
