At Mad Rose Gallery, two exhibits invite a new way of seeing

Gallery director and artist Natalie Tyler
Natalia Zukerman

Gallery director and artist Natalie Tyler
Mad Rose Gallery in Millerton recently invited visitors to experience both of its current exhibits, “Ebb & Flow” and “The Female Gaze” with many of the artists in attendance.
The tour began with “Ebb & Flow,” an installation of glass works by Steven Weinberg, Lisa Sacco, Eric Hilton and Natalie Tyler. In the late-afternoon sun, the room became a kaleidoscope of bending, fracturing, flickering light. Color slid across the walls; reflections dissolved into shadow. It was a subtly instructive prelude to “The Female Gaze” next door as the glass didn’t just glow — it shifted the angle of attention, teaching the eye to notice differently.
The term “the female gaze” is attributed to feminist film theorist Laura Mulvey, who, in her 1975 essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” named what Hollywood had long taken for granted: the camera — and by extension, the viewer — was aligned with a masculine subjectivity. Women existed on-screen largely as objects, not agents.
In the decades since, the “female gaze” has evolved into something more expansive. It signals authorship, yes, but also empathy, subjectivity, and the refusal to flatten lived experience into familiar tropes. It is not simply the opposite of the male gaze; it is another way of seeing altogether.
Mad Rose’s eight featured photographers explore this premise across mediums, histories and sensibilities using diverse approaches to challenge conventional narratives. The response has been so positive that the exhibit has been extended through Dec. 28.

The tour began with Ava Pellor, whose large black-and-white portraits of bodies in nature rely on trust. She explained that she photographs with a tripod or a Rolleiflex so she “never breaks the connection with the subject.” The goal isn’t voyeurism, she said, but agency.
“What really shocks me is when people say, ‘I’ve never been photographed by a woman before,’ and then they thank me for letting them be who they are,” she explained. “That’s why I photograph the nude, to almost desexualize the female body, or the human body in general.”
The work explores the symbiotic, inseparable relationship between bodies and the natural world. “To live symbolically is to remember we are not apart from nature, but a continuation of it,” said Pellor.
Across from Pellor hang glossy and colorful images by internationally renowned fashion and costume designer, Han Feng. Co-founder of Mad Rose Neal Rosenthal spoke of her work saying, “I find her work exceptionally expressive and beautiful.”

Next was Jan Meissner, a writer who discovered the camera could tell stories she couldn’t write. Her early-2000s street photographs were taken in Soho. “I’ve never staged a photograph in my life,” she said. Revisiting the images now was strange, she admitted, depictions of a city that no longer exists.“I don’t think I could make these photographs anymore. The terrain has changed and I have changed. It was a moment in time, and I thank Mad Rose for sending me back there.”
An abstract photographer and longtime human rights lawyer, Pamela Takiff brings a different kind of witnessing. Her work begins with overlooked textures — broken glass, peeling paint —then pares away context so the viewer’s imagination takes over.
A Guggenheim Fellow and recent Cleveland Arts Prize Lifetime Achievement Award recipient, Barbara Bosworth’s black-and-white images were made with her 8x10 camera. “I began looking for light in the darkness,” she wrote of the work, which circles family, land, and the thin veil between presence and memory.
Artist Beatrice PediconiNatalia Zukerman
Beatrice Pediconi’s work spans drawing, photography, painting and video, all organized around her investigations of water as medium. She describes the pieces on view, created between 2009 and 2016, as explorations of “the fragility of all life, highlighting its ephemeral condition.”
Barbara Woike, who spent 33 years as a news photo editor with the Associated Press, offered both history and perspective as she guided visitors through her nearly 50-year-old portraits. “All of these photographs were shot almost 50 years ago,” she said. All pre-digital, all grounded in the subject itself. “Back in the day, photography was more about realism. Even if an abstract picture was shot, it was still shot from something very real — a leaf, a pepper, a naked body twisted so that you’d pause and ask, ‘What is this?’ before realizing it was a body.”

Woike’s career, she explained, grew from that foundation. When digital photography arrived, she witnessed its shift firsthand but stayed true to the ethos of capturing the moment. “Even though photography went digital, there was no alteration of images. I could have been fired for moving a Coca-Cola can out of a picture.”
Her work, she emphasized, has always been about the subject, not the photographer. “The work was about subject matter, not about me. Back then, people still argued whether photography was art at all. Someone might look at these pictures,” she said, gesturing to Beatrice Pediconi’s abstractions across the gallery, “and ask, ‘Is it photography?’ It’s about light, and what light can put into an image.”
Many of Woike’s subjects are no longer alive. “Some I never followed, others I knew until the day they died. That’s the power of portraiture — it lets people stay alive.”
One image holds particular weight: a portrait of Katherine “Sissy” Wells, the first trans person Woike met. When Woike posted the photograph on Facebook to mark what would have been Wells’ 108th birthday, hundreds of people responded with memories. In capturing Wells, Woike did more than preserve a face — she reframed perception, reminding viewers that the story beneath the image, like light through glass, is what makes it real.
The tour ended with Rosenthal speaking about his partner and gallery co-founder, Kerry Madigan’s work. Madigan, who has been making photographs since the 1970s, is experiencing aphasia due to cognitive impairment. Her images, preserved memories, form what Rosenthal described as “a bit of a travelogue of our experiences together traveling all over the world.”
Guests were then invited upstairs for the Mad Rose Winter Salon, featuring the work of local artists at various stages of their careers. Once again, viewers were reminded that perspective is never fixed. It shifts depending on where you stand, what you know, and who is doing the seeing.
Elena Spellman
Dan Baker, left, and Daniel Latzman at Barrington Hall in Great Barrington.
Barrington Hall in Great Barrington has hosted generations of weddings, proms and community gatherings. When Dan Baker and Daniel Latzman took over the venue last summer, they stepped into that history with a plan not just to preserve it, but to reshape how the space serves the community today.
Barrington Hall is designed for gathering, for shared experience, for the simple act of being together. At a time when connection is often filtered through screens and distraction, their vision is grounded in something simple and increasingly rare: real human connection.
The partnership behind Barrington Hall began long before the building itself. Both Baker and Latzman grew up on Long Island, spent more than a decade in New York City, and eventually found their way to the Berkshires, drawn by the desire for something different. What they didn’t realize at first was just how closely their lives had already mirrored one another.
They were born in the same hospital, a year apart. Their families had distant connections. They even played on the same soccer team — never meeting, but moving through the same spaces. It wasn’t until they became neighbors in Egremont about five years ago that those parallels came into focus.
“In hindsight, it feels inevitable,” Latzman said. “But it was actually extremely random that we ended up here.”
From the beginning, Barrington Hall was meant to be a place people return to, not for any one event, but for the experience of being there. On any given week, the space might host a jazz performance, a dance party, a songwriter circle or a children’s event. Some nights bring in touring acts. Others highlight local creatives. The variety is intentional and so is the atmosphere.
“It’s about people,” Baker said. “It’s about being present.”

Baker and Latzman are keenly aware of the world outside with its constant barrage of information, political conflicts, a culture that pulls people deeper into their screens. Barrington Hall offers a way out of that noise.
“A little bit of a bubble,” Latzman said. “A place to step away from everything else.”
During a recent event, they noticed something telling: a full room of people dancing, talking, engaged — and almost no one on their phone.
“That’s when you know something is working,” Baker said.
Taking over a beloved local space comes with responsibility, one Baker and Latzman have met by honoring the building’s traditions while also expanding them.
“We didn’t feel obligated,” Latzman said. “We felt honored.”
Part of what makes the space distinct is its versatility. Large enough to host more than 250 people, yet intimate enough to feel personal, it fills a gap in the local landscape, serving a wide range of people and bringing different groups together in the same space.
“We want people to feel like, if something’s happening here, it’s worth checking out,” Latzman said.
They are carefully balancing community access with the realities of running a business, with an eye toward the long term.
“We want this to be here in 20 years,” Latzman said.

That vision extends beyond the building itself — future collaborations, expanded programming, a growing role in shaping the cultural life of the Berkshires. But at its core, the mission remains simple: to create a place where people can gather, a place that feels alive.
And perhaps most importantly, to create a place where, if only for a few hours, people can step away from the noise of the world and enjoy being together.
When asked who they’re most excited to host next, their answer was immediate: The Mammals on April 10 and Lee Ross, a one-man party band from Massachusetts, scheduled to perform on May 1.
For more information and tickets, visit
barringtonhallgb.com
Natalia Zukerman
Gail Rothschild with her painting “Dead Sea Linen III (73 x 58 inches, 2024, acrylic on canvas.
There is a moment, looking at a painting by Gail Rothschild, when you realize you are not looking at a painting so much as a map of time. Threads become brushstrokes; fragments become fields of color; something once held in the hand becomes something you stand in front of, both still and in a constant process of changing.
“Textiles connect people,” Rothschild said. “Textiles are something that we’re all intimately involved with, but we take it for granted.”
Her work begins, often, with something small: a scrap of linen from the Judean desert, dating “to a time before the notion of ‘Israel’ or ‘Palestine;’” a fragment so diminished it barely registers as an object; or a rare indigo-dyed child’s head cloth from Tutankhamen’s tomb.
“I call them portraits of ancient linen,” she said.
Rothschild grew up in Greenwich and studied drawing and painting at Yale University. “That was kind of my first love,” she said. But she quickly veered toward something more collective, working with Peter Schumann at the Bread and Puppet Theater, building papier-mâché puppets and participating in a kind of performance-based activism that blurred art and politics.
“After Yale, I got out of school and thought‘Wait a second. I don’t want to paint anymore. I need to work with people in communities and make things.’”
She moved to Brooklyn and began working in public schools, developing projects rooted in collaboration and local history. The projects were ambitious, research-driven, and often confrontational. At the University of Massachusetts, she recalled asking students: “Did you know that Amherst was named for Jeffrey Amherst, who was responsible for giving blankets infected with smallpox to Native Americans? Why don’t we look into that?’”
There were sculptures, letters to watchdog groups, installations. She worked on four such projects a year, she said, until the pace became unsustainable. “At some point I just said, ‘I’m exhausted. I’m going back to the studio.’”
What brought her back was a book, “Prehistoric Textiles ” by Elizabeth Wayland Barber. Inside, she encountered an image of a 7,000-year-old textile, unraveling.
“It said to me, ‘this could be a great big abstract painting’,” she said. “What does it mean that this textile, this thing that used to be a Cartesian grid and over time has gone back to nature?”
That question became a kind of axis for her work. “There is this cusp between nature and culture,” she said. Early on, she avoided textiles with imagery, drawn instead to the raw language of fiber itself. But eventually, even that boundary softened. A project with the Godwin-Ternbach Museum introduced her to Egyptian textiles — Christian, pagan, Greek, Roman influences colliding in woven form.

What followed was a deepening relationship with museums and, crucially, with conservators. Institutions like The Metropolitan Museum of Art and collections in Berlin and Paris began sending her images of textile fragments, sometimes pieces she has still never seen in person.
“It’s almost easier for me to transform it when I haven’t seen it,” she said.
Her process is both precise and intuitive. She grids the canvas and the source image, drawing freehand to “honor what the object is.” For a time, she works closely from the photograph. Then something shifts. “At some point I’ll say, ‘It’s a painting. It’s got to talk to itself,’ and then I stop looking at the photograph.”
What emerges is layered, luminous and muscular. “Sometimes people say, ‘Do you miss making sculpture?’ and I say, ‘I never stopped.’”
You feel that in the surfaces: the tension of threads pulling apart, the sense that something is both forming and dissolving at once. Even the backgrounds — often ambiguous, atmospheric — are not neutral. “It’s really more about feeling the space around the object,” she said, especially as she considers how ancient fragments are mounted on modern fabrics. “I get to invent an entirely other language.”
Some of her most arresting work is on the monumental textiles of The Met Cloisters, where medieval tapestries, some towering more than a dozen feet, are slowly, painstakingly conserved. It’s in the conservation labs that Rothschild has observed the physical reality of these works: their own weight pulling them apart, threads breaking under centuries of strain. Conservators insert new threads to stabilize them and Rothschild documents this process. “There’s a kind of poignancy to their work,” Rothschild said, “because as hard as we work to conserve the objects of our past, in the greater cosmic scheme of time, it’s only temporary. There’s something beautiful about that.”
Time operates on multiple levels in Rothschild’s work. There is the time of the object —thousands of years, in some cases — and the time of the painting, which unfolds over months. “Once I start working on something, I can’t stop,” she said. “But then it’ll rest for a while and I may change it, add layers.”
And then there is the time of attention itself, the way looking can tip into obsession, into pattern-seeking that doesn’t quite turn off. Rothschild is aware of that edge.
“I have to make myself stop or I just see patterns everywhere and I can’t stop, really,” she laughed. “That’s why I’ve built in other things I need to do in my life like take the dogs for a hike or, you know, volunteer at the Sharon Land Trust… otherwise I go a little nuts. And it wouldn’t be good painting either.”
A painting session, for her, has its own its own arc. “There’s kind of a trajectory for every work session. I might be repeating something and suddenly it looks linear. The language I started painting with may change by the end and I think, ‘Oh God, I’m gonna have to go back and repaint that.’”
But then, she said, there is a pause.
“I kind of step back and say, ‘No, this painting can hold both. That’s part of its history. There’s the history of the object but then there’s the history of the painting.’”
Richard Feiner And Annette Stover
Cast of “Laughter on the 23rd Floor” from left to right. Tara Vega, Steve Zerilli, Bob Cady (Standing) Seated at the table: Andrew Blanchard, Jon Barker, Colin McLoone, Chris Bird, Rebecca Annalise, Adam Battlestein
For a century, the Sherman Players have turned a former 19th-century church into a stage where neighbors become castmates, volunteers power productions and community is the main attraction. The company marks its 100th season with a lineup that blends classic works, new writing and homegrown talent.
New England has a long history of community theater and its role in strengthening civic life. The Sherman Players remain a vital example, mounting intimate, noncommercial productions that draw on local participation and speak to the current cultural moment.
Sherman Players President Missy Alexander is an enthusiastic champion of the group’s history and collaborative spirit, which engages amateurs and professionals alike “to see what fun we can have” in bringing theater to all audiences. Everyone pitches in — from sets and costumes to administrative work — to bring each production to life. She calls it the “extra special sparkle” that has defined the company since its first performances in their historic church home in 1926.
The season opens in April with Neil Simon’s “Laughter on the 23rd Floor,” a comedy set in the 1950s television writers’ room during the McCarthy era. In June, the company will present a production (with live music) of the classic Broadway musical “Bye, Bye Birdie!” one of the first shows that highlighted the Baby Boomer generation and our “Kids are King” culture.
In July, The Sherman Players will debut “Restored to Reason,” a new work by local writer Elizabeth Young about Mary Todd Lincoln. Developed through the theater’s Cold Lemonade reading series, the work marks the first time the company has taken a piece from staged reading to full production, a memorable milestone in the group’s historic mission.
September brings a timely revival of the historic American courtroom drama, “Inherit the Wind.” The Sherman Players last presented this riveting account of the infamous Scopes “monkey trial” in 1966. The season concludes with a special holiday presentation of “An American Christmas Carol,” an original adaptation of the Dickens classic, written by Artistic Director Robin Frome, directed by Jane Farnol.
Alexander is quick to acknowledge that The Sherman Players is committed to supporting the broader regional arts community. “We’re closer than you think, and we all draw on the same talents and resources,” she said. “We all see and support each other’s work.”
This dedication is helping to enrich the theater-going experience for everyone, from long-established generational Sherman Players patrons to new, younger audiences looking for community connection.
The Sherman Playhouse is located at 5 Route 39 N, Sherman, Connecticut. For tickets, subscriptions and more information, visit shermanplayers.org.

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Graham Corrigan
Stage director Geoffrey Larson signs autographs for some of the kids after a family performance.
For those curious about opera but unsure where to begin, the Mahaiwe Theater in Great Barrington will offer an accessible entry point with “Once Upon an Opera,” a free, family-friendly program on Sunday, April 12, at 2 p.m. The event is designed for opera newcomers and aficionados alike and will include selections from some of opera’s most beloved works.
Luca Antonucci, artistic coordinator, assistant conductor and chorus master for the Berkshire Opera Festival, said the idea first materialized three years ago.
“This production is one of the highlights of the off-season,” he said.
“Opera is all about telling stories through music, which makes the concert a hit with people of all ages,” he added. “Every story has something to tell us about the human experience.” He pointed to the range of material covered in the program. “From the beautiful ornamentation of Baroque operas to the majesty of Mozart, to the gripping emotions of Verdi and Puccini … up to the modern-day stories of today’s operas by composers like Huang Ruo, Missy Mazzoli and so many others.”
The event features three singers from the Berkshire Opera Festival: soprano Juliet Schlefer, mezzo-soprano Abbegael Greene and tenor Maximillian Jansen. All three are still early in their careers, a class of rising vocal talent carrying the torch for the next generation. They will be accompanied by pianist Charles Tsui.
“I think that opera is especially exciting for families and young children precisely because it is all about storytelling,” Antonucci said. “Adding costumes, sets, props and the incredible power of operatic voices to the mix makes it one of the few types of experiences where all the arts come together.”
This year, the production reimagines some of those legendary stories in present-day Massachusetts. As always, “Once Upon an Opera” promises to be an interactive affair, encouraging audience participation throughout its hourlong runtime. While the event is free, reservations are encouraged due to limited seating.
Tickets are available at berkshireoperafestival.org/onceuponanopera.
Natalia Zukerman
Aerial view of The Shed at Tanglewood in Lenox, Massachusetts.
The Boston Symphony Orchestra is outlining its path forward following the announcement that music director Andris Nelsons will step down after the 2027 Tanglewood season, closing a 13-year tenure.
In a letter to supporters, the BSO’s Board of Trustees acknowledged that the news has been difficult for many in its community, while emphasizing gratitude for Nelsons’ leadership and plans to celebrate his final season.
The orchestra also pointed to broader challenges facing the institution and the field at large. Attendance has declined over the past two decades, while operating costs have risen. The BSO has relied on more than $100 million in reserve funds beyond standard endowment draws to cover ongoing deficits, and key facilities — including venues at Tanglewood — require significant upgrades.
In response, the organization is advancing a long-term strategy centered on three priorities: programming, partnerships and place. Plans include rethinking how concerts reach contemporary audiences, strengthening ties across Boston and the Berkshires, and investing in major performance spaces such as Symphony Hall and Tanglewood.
The board emphasized that while the BSO remains committed to artistic excellence and its core repertoire, adapting to changing audience habits will be critical to its sustainability. Leaders say ongoing conversations with musicians, staff and community partners have helped shape the new direction.
Despite financial pressures and leadership changes, trustees expressed confidence in the orchestra’s future, underscoring the role of audiences, donors and artists in sustaining one of the country’s oldest cultural institutions.
Leila Hawken
Roasted lamb
Preparing lamb for the observance of Easter is a long-standing tradition in many cultures, symbolizing new life and purity. For Christians, Easter marks the end of Lenten fasting, allowing for a celebratory feast. A popular choice is roast lamb, often prepared with rosemary, garlic or lemon. It is traditional to serve mint sauce or mint jelly at the table.
The Hebrew Bible suggests that the last plague God inflicted on the Egyptians, to secure the Israelites’ release from slavery, was to kill the firstborn son in every Egyptian home. To differentiate the Israelites from the Egyptians, God instructed them to mark their doorposts with the blood of a lamb. Today, Jews, Christians and Muslims generally believe that God would have known who was Israelite and who was Egyptian without such a sign, but views of God’s omnipotence in the Abrahamic faiths have evolved over the millennia.
This tradition, celebrated at Passover, has made lamb a first choice for Jewish families commemorating freedom from Egyptian slavery. Christians have continued the tradition, naming Jesus the Lamb of God, whose death serves as atonement for the sins of the world. For them, the dietary restrictions of Lent have ended, allowing a return to eggs, sweets and meat.
2 or more cloves garlic, thinly sliced
Good-quality olive oil
Rosemary
Salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Trim fat from lamb as desired. Using a sharp knife, cut small gashes in the meat and insert a slice of garlic into each cut. Rub the roast with olive oil, then season with rosemary (some cooks also add thyme), salt and pepper.
Place the meat on a rack in a shallow roasting pan and put it in the preheated oven. After 15 minutes, reduce heat to 350 degrees. Roast for 25 minutes per pound for rare or 30 minutes per pound for well-done. Well-done lamb will be less juicy and less tender. If garlic is not desired, substitute lemon or additional rosemary.
When the roast is done, carve by slicing parallel to the bone, rotating as needed.
Variations: Some recipes substitute lemon juice for olive oil. You may also use salad oil instead of olive oil and add a bit of powdered ginger, a bay leaf, sage and marjoram. Soy sauce is also used.
To make gravy:
After removing the roast to rest, place the roasting pan on the stovetop over heat. Add flour and stir for one minute, until a paste forms. Add beef stock or water to reach the desired consistency. Mash any garlic pieces, if used, to enhance flavor. Strain and serve.

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