PROVINCETOWN, MASS.- A staged reading of “A Part of the Noise,” a new play about the American painter, Franz Kline, written by his nephew, Carl Kline, is a fresh look at the life of the internationally renowned artist. This event will be held at the Provincetown Theatre (238 Bradford Street, Provincetown, MA) on Sunday, August 11 at 7 pm. This debut production sheds light on the elusive life of the New York artist, whom his colleague Robert Motherwell called “the enchanter.”
The playwright, Carl Kline, who has lived an equally eclectic life as his ancestor (working as farmhand, factory worker, soil conservationist, actor, teacher, and bartender) earned his MFA in theater. He described the challenge of working on his uncle’s story as something needing to be done “with integrity,” full of physical interactions, and a “cavalcade of emotions ranging from grief to laughter.” In total, it’s one of the most personal revelations about Franz Kline in a long while.
The play is set in 1959, three years before Kline’s death. As it begins, be prepared for authentic dialogue. It is as if Franz himself has written the script, it rings so true. Kline’s spirit comes alive, entertaining the audience with a mixture of intellect, humor, and passion, his intrinsic love of art wrapped up in his most magnificent heart.
From the first scene in “A Part of the Noise,” we are voyeurs sharing private studio moments and conversations. It’s as if young Carl had been hiding behind the painting racks, taking notes. Rare scenes with Elizabeth, his wife and muse, are so real in their intimacy and friction. She is filling a tea kettle, and cutting lemons for tea. She says, “We’ll never get away from this grinding poverty, moving from one eviction to another. We can’t even offer a guest a decent coffee cup without having to scrape the paint off it first.”
Kline rarely wasted a moment in life. “Life is a story begging to be told,” he says. “It's a gift given to us so we can have purpose . . . Some people are oblivious and throw that gift away. We're born. We live. We die. What we do during that cycle is up to us, and it can be magic.
The play begins in Kline’s 14th Street studio in Greenwich Village. Carl describes huge black and white paintings against the walls and bare light bulbs suspended from the ceiling. The smell of turpentine is in the air. Paint cans stuffed with brushes rest on a work table next to a wooden easel. Wagner’s Götterdämmerung is playing on the phonograph. Kline is in high spirits until a knock on the door breaks his reverie. He rushes to the door, flings it open, and finds himself face to face with Sidney Janis, his art dealer.
Janis doesn’t want to include Franz' new color abstractions in an upcoming show, preferring to ride out the popularity of Kline’s black and white paintings, which are selling for record prices. But Franz insists on including two color abstractions, even as Janis threatens to end their relationship if he does. This tension sets the play’s initial conflict. With a little help from Franz’s friends, the show takes on an interesting twist involving disguises and ingenuity involving his biggest collector.
Carl Kline’s background in theater is obvious. The quality of his story, a rare and meaningful remembrance of the life of Kline, is a must-see. That Carl Kline is the nephew of Franz Kline is not surprising. Raised in New Jersey, he is the son of Franz’s older brother Frederick. Carl’s keen observations of his family developed while he was a young boy. Overhearing bits of conversations between his father and Franz during their sometimes hours-long calls fueled his curiosity.
“This play is an homage to all of the artists, writers, and the musicians of that era,” Carl Kline explains. “They supported themselves as best as they could and helped and supported one another in an honest comradery. Although this production may be seen on its face as a play about art vs. commerce, it's more about confrontation. Confrontation between artists and those who critique their art, and also the interaction with the audience to witness and accept the courage of those who dedicate their lives to their creativity.”
The story ends at the Cedar Bar, where the scene is a raucous party. The Cedar is a lark, a place where folks engage in mischievous fun. Franz was there almost every night, with the exception of nights at other taverns, such as the Minetta Tavern, both in Greenwich Village, where Kline painted murals and caricatures of customers for fifty cents so he and Elizabeth could eat. (see photo) On this particular night at the Cedar Tavern, we find such interesting characters as Willem de Kooning, Grace Hartigan, David Amram and Jack Kerouac. In one scene, Franz says, “Davey [Amram], you’re bringing our American experience to Europe. Wagner into jazz. My new series of paintings are for him, King Oliver and all the old jazz pioneers. They all knew how to say it simply and keep it precise.”
He goes on: “They work until they ache, the real world dismisses and labels them, us, as offbeat weirdos because we dare to express ourselves. They don’t realize or care about the hard work we’ve put into creating something original. [He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand about the room]. These are warriors. The rest don’t get it and never will. [He leans forward]. But we don’t want them to.”
Franz Kline died in 1962. Beat poet Frank O’Hara once called him “Action Painter par Excellence.” A historic plaque adorns Kline’s former home in Provincetown, at 17 Cottage Street, that reads “Franz Kline Painting Studio, Circa 1952-1962”. This reading is directed by Lynda Sturner.
Rebecca Finsel is the coauthor of Franz Kline in Coal Country for the series America Through Time/Font Hill Media
