Allison Tanenhaus TF: Pat Hanley

Religion 1529 – PCGT Final Paper Professor Brian Palmer

During an in-class interview with Howard Zinn, renowned historian, author, and socio-political protest legend, he intoned, "Write, but act – people need to see you as an example. Ordinary people are doing amazing things" (Zinn interview). Virtually self-educated playwright, entrepreneur, actor, feminist, social satirist, non-conformist, and independent business proprietor Lauri Bortz, 34, with her unique vision, spirit, and artistic and social contributions, qualifies Zinn’s statement, with one revision. As a remarkable writer, nurturing mentor, and inspiration, Lauri Bortz is in fact an extraordinary person doing amazing things.

Bortz best displays her independence and steadfast dedication to artistic integrity through her chosen life, career path, and foray in the creative realm. Her father hoped for her to take over his EPA-compliant fireplace and accessories factory. Yet Lauri acknowledged Gregg Levoy’s truth that "[m]uch of the pain associated with callings comes from avoiding them, from not surrendering to them" (Levoy 279)" and realized that with such a dearth of creative resources, her expected occupation would not thoroughly satisfy her artistic calling. Rather, as an independent spirit who "always did [her] own thing" (Bortz), Lauri sought a less conventional lifestyle, one in which she would "love [her] work, which [would] engage [her] in lifelong learning and endless experimentation" (Lasch 36). By pursuing a career in writing, Lauri performed a greater service. As Homi Bhaba acknowledged, "Literature is a great way to work towards social justice – the writer can inform and help others to question" (Bhaba interview). Furthermore, by self-publishing and self-distributing her works all over the world through her business Abaton Book Company, she fulfills Levoy’s mandate: "If you feel called to share your art or writing with the world, but you show it only to friends and family, you’re not stepping all the way up to the plate…/ In order to share your work with the world, you will have to yield some privacy. Sharing is an act of communication, and the circuit isn’t complete until you give it to someone" (Levoy 284/273).

Now an established playwright with two self-published volumes of her original, provocative, and absurdist plays, Lauri confesses that she has engaged in "some form of what [she's] doing now from when [she] was a small child" (Bortz). As a young girl, Lauri created books, put on plays, led a meditation group in the fifth grade, and, at the age of ten, began her participation in rallying and performance/protest art by conducting a petition for the legalization of marijuana. As an elementary school student in the ‘70s, she was encouraged to express herself creatively, and became enamored with the form of plays. While her teachers bound her books and allowed her to perform her pieces in class, Lauri soon became dissatisfied with education. Much as Alfie Kohn found fatal flaws in the educational system, Lauri, too, realized that her school did not serve to "provide [students] with engaging tasks and a supportive environment" (Kohn "Grading: The Issue" 78). Lauri’s ideal environment, one in which she could be alone to read and write, bears a striking resemblance to the reprieve that homeless activist Dorothy Day sought: " ‘I wanted to be alone at times…A place where I could go and read and write, stare out of the window, look at a tree…." (Day in Coles 135)." Thus, after a tiring struggle, Lauri ceased attending school by seventh grade.

After several years of employment in bookshops, art galleries, and a brief association with a group of Jungians, Lauri, at twenty, ventured out on her own to live in New York, where she began acting and established the Abaton Film Company. She made various films, for which she wrote the scripts, co-created and joined the cast of the East Village-based, live soap opera Sordid Lives, which also featured renowned drag queens Miss Understood and Hedda Lettuce. While initially enthusiastic about her position, she encountered problems with conservatism and censorship. While she fought to preserve her creation, Magda J. Magdalene, a feminist performance artist who organized protests on the subway with homeless citizens, the rest of the cast argued that the audience, mostly male, craved instead a light-hearted series about East Village artists, "with zaniness but without the accompanying intensity" (Bortz). In this particular incident, Lauri followed Noam Chomsky’s tenets in "Writers and Intellectual Responsibility," in which "it is a moral imperative to find out and tell the truth as best one can, about things that matter, to the right audience" (Chomsky 55). Although she recognized Magda as "[her] muse for awhile," Lauri, without a copyright on the character, chose to leave the show, preferring to seek a new outlet rather than succumb to forced censorship. After all, as Levoy inquires, "How much tinkering can a vision endure until it no longer resembles your vision…?" (Levoy 275).

This crucial question continued to play a significant role in Lauri’s career as an ethical and autonomous artist, unfettered by conformity and creative compromise. She was "in favor of freedom and…against stuffy custom for custom’s sake" (Douglas 107) and swore to never "sell-out." Levoy emphasizes the importance of maintaining one’s vision in the face of adversity, including economic benefit when it requires artistic sacrifice: "If you’re even worried about the prospect of ‘selling out’ your calling, this is probably a good sign. It means you believe you have something worth protecting, perhaps even worth selling" (Levoy 276). So dedicated to her artistic visions and independence as a writer, Lauri fought several additional times for the preservation of her work, protesting its desecration and misrepresentation. In fact, while not as crude, Lauri’s outlook somewhat resembles Neal Smither’s: "I don’t care if you don’t like me. I don’t care if I’m gruff. I have a goal and I have a plan to achieve the goal and if you’re in my way, get out of the way." (Smither 84).

The social Dorothy Day of independent playwrights, "a young, cosmopolitan woman, well-read and a friend of writers and artists and intellectuals" (Coles 123), Lauri sought to maintain her artistic vision of integrity in every project in which she participated. After Sordid Lives, Lauri proceeded to create full-length plays, serving as the resident writer of a theater company where she prepared two of her plays for a festival. Ultimately, however, despite all of her work, including arranging the costumes, set, and music, the cast, to her dismay, hacked and rearranged her play. Although a new cast was subsequently hired, the new actors did not bother to learn their lines, and the production ran the first night with entire scenes missing. Distressed, Lauri stood outside on the second night to boycott with a "6'7" guy all in black, who wore mover's gloves and looked like a thug" (Bortz), informing the audience that she was the author and the cast had ruined her play. "I begged them not to go in. The production wasn't my vision at all! I hated the idea that there were half-full houses watching a butchering of my piece. There was an 8 week run, so there could've been a lot of people seeing my work, but I didn't want people seeing that" (Bortz). On the third night, Lauri reclaimed all the costumes, props, and music, causing the show to close, and the theater company to fold.

A final incident occurred that convinced her to work on her own, independently of people who might spoil her vision. Lauri’s next artistic proposal concerned Jewish paranoia. "There are still ghosts walking the streets of Germany; people are still haunted. Groups of old ladies are in cafes, but no men. It’s a bizarre way to live" (Bortz). Convinced that her idea was feasible and relevant, Lauri decided to follow through with a film on the topic, because "[a]lthough intent is powerful, we still need to follow through with time spent at the grindstone. We still need to work with the back and legs and voice" (Levoy 272). Essentially, although Lauri had worked with friends of hers in Germany, once she returned to the United States, they edited her thirty-minute piece, which was to be sent to the Holocaust museum, into "a three-minute music video" (Bortz). They also audaciously pegged on the Abaton name, even though the final product was not at all what Lauri had envisioned. Lauri fought to retrieve the cut footage so that she might edit her own version, but was unable to reach a peaceful agreement.

Although the sacrifices might be costly, as "[i]f you want…the relative freedom of self-employment, you must forsake the momentum and financial resources of an established institution and take up the slack created by your own time-management sins" (Levoy 273), Lauri, like Tom Chappell of Tom’s of Maine, decided to work as her own boss and full employee staff, creating and helming the Abaton Book Company in 1997. Her first project, the 5 & 10¢ series, was a compilation of chapbooks by various artists from all over the globe, and served as an overview of "what was happening in the contemporary art world at the end of the twentieth century" (Bortz). Working with overseas artists proved difficult and time-consuming, and while the financial costs were indeed great ("We didn’t break even" (Bortz) ), editions are currently in the Museum of Modern Art, the New York Public Library, and the E.H. Bobst library at NYU. Although this was the first of Lauri’s Abaton projects, each one has required much financial, but thankfully not artistic, sacrifice. According to Levoy, "We’re led to believe we should aspire to society-page lives, that callings and adventures are by definitions dramatic, and that what is great is visible from the next galaxy – all of which are pure horse puckey. Living out a calling may mean living an unspectacular life, a life of quiet ministry, steadfast backstage work, politicking without renown; it may mean a life unknown to fame. Even the highest calling entails the unremarkable tasks of licking stamps, stuffing envelopes, and tacking up flyers. It asks that we do our homework, sweep the front porch, sock away pennies, and knock on wood" (Levoy 279). Lauri perfectly validates Levoy’s example. "Only 15 percent of [a set of researchers’] sample reported that they would be satisfied with ‘living a comfortable life,’ that is, being middle class" (Schor 45). Yet, to obey her artistic calling, Lauri has settled for a less-than-glamorous life (with the exception of her marvelous wardrobe because, as New York Press editor John Strausbaugh remarked in his article "Theater of the Absurd", "Every time I’ve seen Bortz she’s been dressed, as someone here in the office remarked, like a woman going to meet Sam Spade: swishy cotton dress, big hat, big shoes, glossy lips and hair. It’s a look she wears fabulously, and it’s also extravagantly theatrical"). While she could have lived in reasonable luxury had she chosen to take over her father’s business, instead she took an alternate route, exemplifying Singer’s statement that "[u]ltimate choices take courage. In making restricted choices, our fundamental values form a foundation on which we can stand when we choose" (Singer 242). She realized that she "may have to relinquish the precious commodities of time and energy, or something that represents security[,]…or simply whatever internal resistance stands in [her] way" (Levoy 265). Indeed, "[f]aith will eventually ask of the faithful, ‘What are you willing to give up in order to follow your call?’" (Levoy 265). Yet, "[t]he scales tip in favor of sacrifice, and the odds tip in favor of a payoff" (Levoy 271), which Lauri affirms. Through Abaton, an entirely self-run company, from promotion to final products, she has been "reaping the benefits, but not pulling in the bucks" (Bortz).

In addition to her perseverance, adherence to her calling, and dedication to artistic vision and integrity, also tying into this course’s themes are her feminism, satirical social commentary, and the leadership and encouragement she extends to others. Living in Newton, New Jersey, Lauri continued to write and self-publish. While bringing books to a local bookstore, Lauri’s neighbor Marianne Nowottny, fourteen at the time, approached her, presenting herself as a fellow writer. Marianne presented her illustrated, poetry-filled notebooks to Lauri, who eventually hand-selected and compiled the best of the young author’s work, printing out a publication on her own home printer to create a simulation of a teenage girl's diary. Constantly moving from new residence to new residence, and between her divorced parents in different regions of New Jersey, Marianne found companionship, stability, understanding, and artistic camaraderie with Lauri and her husband, the visual artist Mark Dagley. During a dinner get-together, Marianne revealed that she composed music with her friend Donna Bailey under the name Shell. After hearing and remastering a tape of Shell songs, Mark, also a musician, and Lauri recognized the girls’ talents. The two then decided that Abaton would also serve as a record label and, gradually, a sort of "finishing school for girls" (Bortz), of which I am one proud alum.

Marianne also experimented with riveting solo material, which left the couple "dumbfounded" (Bortz). Abaton then released a demo version of Marianne’s solo album, entitled Afraid of Me. Recognizing that a full-length album was in order, Lauri and Mark traveled to Spain and sold some of their personal art collection to fund CD production. With radio promotion, printed press, gigs for both Marianne and Shell (who were to release an album as well), and more, Lauri found herself with little time to work on her plays. Mark suffered likewise with limited painting time, as "it took time to manage and be a production team" (Bortz). Yet, with few others recognizing the talents, intelligence, and potential of the promising teen in an environment where "[e]ccentricity [was] rejected, flamboyancy reproved as much as carelessness…. Excellence of artisanship [had] to be achieved without conspicuousness" (Douglas 121), Lauri resolved that she would help as best she could, relinquishing writing time to aid in pre- and post-production responsibilities of Marianne’s next album, the gutsy, compelling double CD Manmade Girl.

Eventually, Lauri managed to devote time to her own work, although she suffered several setbacks. Computer difficulties impeded progress, and she experienced a language barrier with her illustrator, resulting in misrepresentation of characters and graphics that did not sufficiently correspond with the text. Lauri then decided to "fill in the blanks" herself. Designing the volume, Playbortz, like a real playbill, she bought 1930’s magazines and manipulated them to satire social standards of beauty, femininity, and convention. Through her sharply perceptive renderings, Lauri acted much as Jean Kilbourne did to expose marketing’s misleading advertisements, and subsequent pressures placed upon females concerning body perception.

Yet her sardonic advertisements merely highlighted the often feminist and always sharp social analysis that Lauri expressed in Playbortz’s written content. The main play, "Skirting the Issue," tells the tale of a young girl, Bébé, whose character is based upon beauty pageant princess JonBenét Ramsey. Through clever wordplay, fantastical situations, and pointed commentary embedded in the surreal events of the work, Lauri’s work is "an exploration of role-playing, role-modeling, gender in language, and the education of America's youth" (Bortz). Although a provocative piece, Lauri does not claim to have the answers, but the questions. This approach is equally admirable, as "questioning is education, and leads to transformation" (Bhaba interview). Lauri’s inspiration for "Skirting the Issue" arose from her observation that the current culture is "teaching little girls to be whores! I didn't see so many sexy 6-,7-, or 8-year-olds when I was younger" (Bortz). While little girls may be encouraged to do anything, Lauri wryly comments, "Heaven help them if they become women..." (Bortz). The second play in the collection, "Catfight," is about "every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the dogged pursuit of pussy" (Bortz), a reaction to "male-bonding plays and films about slap on the back, football-watching typical guys" (Bortz), whom Lauri finds loathsome, maintaining her tendency to write about topics she deems irritating.

Her earlier piece, "A Modicum of Passion," also addressed significant social issues. At the time of her writing, "it seemed that women were still being somewhat regarded as chattel. Half the world is still throwing baby girls in the garbage. How much has changed? That play was about coming to terms with all of that, feeling young and left out in the cold, and also about when I went through the newspaper with a friend and was very disturbed about reading about the limited legalization of gay marriages" (Bortz). In response to "A Modicum of Passion," Lauri "got flack about homophobia" (Bortz). Yet her work was in fact a disapproving response not to homosexuality, but the conservative view "about the whole concept of marriage as being a tool for reproduction" (Bortz). This led her to question, "Is a female’s only contribution offspring? What are we valued for?" (Bortz).

Ironically, after having abandoned formal education, Bortz’s work, to her own disbelief, is currently being embraced by academia. "I’d assumed I might have a downtown New York-y career, not that I'd end up having to be read and written about by kids!" (Bortz). An English professor at NYU placed Playbortz on the syllabus and had Lauri speak to her students, and Playbortz was recently reviewed at an academic conference in Ohio. Currently living in Jersey City, fighting the " ‘specialized geographical pockets’ populated by people like [each other]" (Lasch 37), Lauri describes her latest project as an "American epic about art and artifice and intent and content and context" (Bortz). To this day, she has never touched a drug.

Despite experiences that link her to various readings in our syllabus for this course, Lauri, a stellar citizen within the so-called "democratic society of the creative" (Lasch 37) who, with her developed characters, constantly and compassionately conquers Elaine Scarry’s identified "Difficulty of Imagining other Persons," most resembles the character briefly sketched in Mary Douglas’s piece "The Consumer’s Revolt." Douglas describes her grandmother as a woman who "[s]ince childhood…had rebelled against her older sister’s judgment, and her adult choices continued to express nervous revolt against my grandmother. Her great-nieces admired her zest and originality. An army widow on a small pension, she none the less led a splendidly independent life; a caravan-dweller, a painter, the bohemian artist in the family, she was way ahead of the others in modernity …refusing to be [a] mindless victim of industrial society" (Douglas 106-7).

Much as Smither claims, "I have no life outside of this. Because the company is my girl, my dope" (Smither 85), Lauri is fully devoted to her business. Yet she also accommodates friends and family, dedicating herself not only to her work, but also to other priorities. Therefore, in addition to her inspirational independence and creative works, Lauri is also meaningful to me personally as a " ‘successful artist…who continues to make art and isn’t more than 50 percent bitter about the rest of life’ " (Levoy 276). An understanding, patient, optimistic, witty, wacky, and charming individual, Lauri serves as a mentor and close friend to me, which, as Richard Wright confirms, is highly important. "What we need isn’t just ‘friends’ in the sense of ‘acquaintances’ or even ‘colleagues,’ but actual friends…/If you spend more time with friends, you and the friends feel better and no one need suffer" (Wright 60/62). Furthermore, a study "found that teenagers who were especially concerned with the welfare of others were especially happy" (Wright 63). Thus, Lauri in fact contributes to my happiness two-fold -- as a remarkably inspirational role model, but also as an endless source of wisdom and unrivaled friendship.

Strausbaugh, John. "Theater of the Absurd." New York Press. Volume 14, Issue 26. Issue date: 6/27/2001 - 7/3/2001. <http://www.nypress.com/14/26/news& columns/publishing.cfm>