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This production was staged at the Jewish Community Center--so Maria could not be a postulant in a nunnery. She became a music student, who was torn between her love for Captain Von Trapp and her devotion to the violin--until her wise violin teacher Yasha sang "Climb Every Mountain." With Debbie Hoffman as Captain Von Trapp, it was a transgender, transTestament classic. And I was there.

THE HOLLYWOOD YEARS

Right after college, emulating my role model Lucy Ricardo, I headed out to Hollywood to take the town by storm and get into the movies. And I did. Sort of.

First I went to the Brown Derby--which I later discovered had not been a celebrity hangout since 1957. Then I had my one and only film role as an extra in John Schlesinger's DAY OF THE LOCUSTS as part of an angry mob. Then I got a job as an assistant film editor on a low, low budget movie called RIDE THE HOT WIND, a right wing political drama slash biker pic.

In spite of this prestigious credential, I got no other film offers--except for one production assistant job (I believe this was also a biker pic--once you get known for something...) where in lieu of a salary, I'd have to sleep with assorted friends of the producer. I passed. Even Lucy wouldnt have gone that far.

Then I was a freelance writer for the Los Angeles FREE PRESS, doing interviews with film and TV people. I was the Number 2 movie person on the paper--which meant that if there was a press junket to San Francisco to interview Richard Burton, that was for Number l. If there was an inedible lunch on the studio lot with Cloris Leachman, that was for me. (Nothing against Cloris Leachman, who is quite interesting, but as even she would admit, no Richard Burton--though she did a superb Maurice Evans in Mel Brooks's "My Kingdom for a Nectarine.")

Among the people I interviewed were: Tony Randall, Natalie Wood, legendary cinematograther Conrad Hall, 30's film star and later director Ida Lupino, writer Buck Henry, and others. I also did book reviews, and the occasional movie review..

I never danced with Van Johnson or got Richard Widmark to autograph a grapefruit, but I did bring Paul Newman a beer and stand next to Cary Grant at a party. Such is fame.

THE MANHATTAN YEARS

This is when I lived the life of a struggling young writer in the big city. Sort of.

I published in the Black Buzzard Review. I knew a guy who was on the "in" list of New York Times Book Review reviewers. I was in gestalt therapy. I met a French poet on the street. I went to grad school in writing and became the first person they ever flunked. I fell in love with a guy who worked for a politician who later went to jail. I was in a writers' group, drank wine, smoked stuff. I saw Alberta Hunter sing the blues at the Cookery. I took acting classes at the HB Studios. I saw my brother play saxophone at CBGB's. I started writing screenplays. I went to the Four Seasons. And, you know, who remembers.

During this time, I taught writing at Brooklyn College (Freshman English), the 92nd Street Y, and one of those Skills Exchange things you have in your living room. I also became a writer-for-hire in the textbook industry. Language Arts. Social Studies. Grammar. Everything from 2nd grade up through junior college. My favorite book as a contributing writer was LANGUAGE BASICS PLUS. It was the "plus" that made it.

I wrote about Reconstruction and figurative language and prehistory, and adapted a chapter of the Odyssey for slow readers. I did twenty pages on the geography of Canada, and I still remember my favorite sentence, quoting a description of Canadas climate: "Ten months winter, two months poor sledding." Which kind of described my writing career.

THE MAIN STREET YEARS

This is when I left the big city and moved to a small town. Sort of.

Actually, I wasnt living in a typical small town. I had moved to a small town in the process of being restored to its vintage Victorian charm--a process, I discovered, so full of noise, traffic, and bulldozing it made me long for the tranquillity of Times Square.

Imagine your next door neighbor as a cross between Aunt Bee and Mussolini: if shes not baking you a rhubarb pie, shes sending the carabinieri to patrol your living room. Of course, you don't have the anonymity of living in a big city where nobody knows you--the best you can do is an unlisted phone number. Which doesnt help, since Aunt Duce just waits till you step out your front door.

During these years I was writing screenplays. I had an agent at the William Morris Agency. Then you ask if I sold anything, and I say no, and you get that condescending smirk, but unless youre William Goldman, put a sock in it. I admit Im a little touchy. Ive lost the wide-eyed openheartedness I had in the Hollywood/Manhattan years. But so has William Goldman, and he's got an Oscar. During this period, I wrote THE KID GETS IT and TEMPTING FATE. Then I wrote THE Z, a comedic portrait of the seething hotbed of antagonisms lurking under the surface of small-town America.

THE COSMIC YEARS

This is when I left small-town America, and moved to the planet Neptune. Sort of. I mean, figuratively speaking. After much self-study in the areas of depth psychology, womens spirituality, and comparative mythology, I hung out my shingle as a mythological consultant, offering taped readings that connected people with the specific myths that would be most meaningful for their lives.

The results were sometimes amazing--as when I did a talk all about the ancient mythology of the snake, and the client turned out to have a lifelong fear of snakes -- which vanished after she listened to the tape! Although the results were usually not so dramatic, this actually happened!

I also began painting during these years--or rather working mostly in chalk. My early art was all abstract, culminating in an exhibition at the Life Center Gallery called DREAMING PICTURES--for these seemed to come from a deep but rather inchoate part of the psyche. I was torn between writing and visual art, wanted to find a way to combine the two. But the movie industry wasnt cooperating, and the internet hadnt been invented yet.

THE COLLAGE ARTIST EMERGES

So what medium could bring all these fabulous, creative, and profound expressions together into a unified work of art except collage? It's a metaphor for my life. I can use everything--watercolors, pictures of Greek sculpture, French newspaper, Japanese washi, crayons, glue, ink, magazine tearings, old letters, pencil and pen, pages ripped from cheap books, pastels, vintage photos, the story of Christian Constant ganaches, acrylics, chromolux, gold leaf, my mothers book of old movie stars, Chinese menus....

And now after a learning a few simple skills, I've added the digital palette to my collaging, and a website has materialized. Okay, I mean after years of agonizing slavery to the fiendish devices of Bill Gates and his henchpeople, I've found one or two useful things I can do with the computer--except on the days where my finger slips, I accidentally hit the wrong key, lose the image file Ive been working on for hours, and vow to embrace an easier technique like repainting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Ultimately, though, its worth it--because how else could you be reading this now?

And what would become my subject as a collage artist but the same mythic theme that so enthralled me at the beginning, in dark theatres amid suburban parking lots? A man, a woman. A heroine, a hero. A goddess, a god.

Since so many of us need to take the shreds of our tattered romantic dreams and piece them into a new fractured but enchanting whole, I put together these collages to suggest how our torn fragments might again, but in a more complex and even richer way, become love.