AMENIA — Seeking to build on the legacy of commitment to inter-racial progress that underpins the significant history of the Troutbeck conference center in Amenia, the 2023 Troutbeck Symposium was held over three days, celebrating the year-long work of 14 local schools.
Students in area independent and public schools had set out to explore the many aspects of the history of racial, religious and ethnic divides, the forgotten narrative of the marginalized. This was the second symposium following last year’s event.
Over three days from Sunday, April 30 to Tuesday, May 2, the students’ work was a focal point of the symposium that also presented lectures by renowned educators who explored the well-known, little-known and forgotten narratives of the American experience for Black citizens, Native Americans and other minority populations.
Troutbeck’s early owners, Amy and Joel Spingarn, had engaged with and supported the early history of the NAACP, when their estate had hosted the Amenia Conferences of 1916 and 1933, establishing the enduring legacy of social reform.
“I’m trying to learn this history along with my students,” said Rhonan Mokriski, history teacher at Salisbury School at the opening session on Sunday, April 30, adding that he and his students are engaging with themes of accessibility and sustainability, amplifying the stories of all people who contributed to the building of our country.
“Why do we still have these inequalities,” asked Christina Proenza-Coles of the University of Virginia, speaking at the Sunday opening. “We are trying to retell the narrative of American history to illustrate the best of our ideals.”
Helping to establish context and a definition of place, Proenza-Coles provided an outline of the centuries of the history of the Western Hemisphere and its substantial population of indigenous peoples, nations and tribes. She also covered the influx of the Spaniards and their influence on the Caribbean culture, the migration of Africans to South America and the history of slavery in North America.
Many of the early western cowboys were Black or Hispanic, she noted.
How people over history strive for and achieve their freedom was a focus of the narrative, Proenza-Coles said.
“White people are trapped in a history they don’t comprehend,” she said, suggesting that people reach toward the freedom achieved by knowing more, paying attention to the detail afforded by historical reality.
A feature of the Sunday session was “Cotton,” a documentary created by Sharon Center School students to tell the story of local artist Katro Storm’s guest teaching at their school about cotton as a plant, cotton as a crop, and the relationship between cotton and slavery in the history of the southern states. He also guided the young students in interpreting that history in individual art projects.
“This work is not academic; it’s the work of recovery,” Mokriski told the audience. “Students sought the ignored stories seeking a more open story, a new vision of history,” he added.
The Civil Rights Act of the 1964 was not the end result, Mokriski said, explaining that there was then an obsession with the idea of racial integration, the idea that proximity to white people was the overarching goal. It was not, he said. The goal was equal treatment and the rights afforded by freedom, a struggle that continues to the present day.
“We will be looking to you,” Mokriski told the students. “Take this project experience and reimagine your space and you will see that it shapes the trajectory of our nation.”
Student-produced documentaries were part of the “Coloring our Past” project initiated through The Salisbury School and now extended to all 14 of the participating schools. Topics explored local stories linked to Black and Indigenous narratives where students interacted with local and area historical societies to uncover fragmentary evidence and do the detective work to piece those puzzles together, shaping the stories of courage and commitment.
A highlight of the symposium was the participation of Prof. Hasan Kwame Jeffries of The Ohio State University who offered his thoughts on each of the schools’ presentations.
Jeffries said, “We need to teach the true history of the past. It has to be taught across the curriculum. People need to study the place of activists and their positive effect over time.”
One documentary produced by Housatonic Valley Regional High School students had explored the local connection to the 1958 state action to close schools in Little Rock, Arkansas, rather than to integrate them, leading two Black students to be invited into a Lakeville home and welcomed into HVRHS to continue their high school years and graduate.
On Monday, May 1, students from The Salisbury School presented the story of “someone who was meant to be forgotten.” The story of Rachel Cesar, an Algonquian sachem needed to be told, but it was made difficult by “the elusiveness of the lost detail of the historical narrative.” A sachem was a high-ranking representative, a king, elected by the tribe rather than by inheritance or appointment.
In a departure from the documentary genre, the young students from Cornwall Consolidated School had chosen to create a “Crankie Theater,” telling their story of Cornwall’s Foreign Mission School using a scroll powered by a hand crank. It proved to be a crowd favorite.
Both guest educators offered high praise for the Troutbeck Symposium. Proenza-Coles proclaimed it to be the best symposium she had ever attended in her entire career of attending innumerable symposia, and Prof. Jeffries said that he intended to brief his brother, House Minority Leader Rep. Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.), on the whole Troutbeck Symposium experience.
“It’s an example of what can happen when a community gets behind and supports its teachers,” Jeffries said. “This is a model of possibility,” he added.
Region One Superintendent Lisa Carter spoke on Tuesday, May 2, praising the project.
“This symposium is really important, where all area students can come together as a community,” Carter said.
A selection of projects from the symposium will be on display in Salisbury Association’s Academy Building from May 6 to June 3. Representing the Salisbury Association at the symposium was Executive Assistant Lou Bucceri.
Students and faculty delegations representing 14 area public and independent schools assembled on Monday, May 1, at the 2023 Troutbeck Symposium in Amenia. Photo by Leila Hawken
A featured speaker at the final day of the 2023 Troutbeck Symposium was Michael Morand, director of community engagement, at Yale’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library in New Haven, Conn. Photo by Leila Hawken
The Edgewood Restaurant, a beloved Amenia roadside restaurant run by George and Anne Phillips, pictured during its peak years in the 1950s and ’60s.
It began as a former gas station and tavern called The Narrows, on the road to Sharon, around a switchback east of Troutbeck. It became a roadhouse restaurant for weddings, bar mitzvahs, proms, graduations, birthdays and holidays with relatives. At Easter, New Year’s and Christmas, George and Anne served the food free — customers only paid for drinks as a thank-you for another good year.
It was a different time. Amenia was an isolated dairy farming community, and two large state psychiatric hospitals employed 4,000 potential diners. People needed a friendly neighborhood restaurant run by a local couple who knew everybody. They offered special-occasion favorites: fried chicken, meatloaf, sliced turkey with gravy, pork chops from nearby farms, and fresh white bread baked at 4 a.m. by George.
There was no maître d’. Waitresses, many still teenagers, greeted guests and helped them find a table. Cloth napkins and sturdy white plates sat in a knotty pine dining room that felt more like a family home than a formal restaurant. Large tables down the center accommodated families. George and Anne fed the staff before opening, and everyone ate the same meals served to customers. Everything was homemade classics of the 1950s and ’60s: cold shrimp and cocktail sauce, stuffed mushrooms, veal parmesan, King crab, clams and oysters on the half shell, chopped hamburger steak, French onion soup, fried chicken and pumpkin pie.
George was a tough but fair boss with a quirky sense of humor. Former employee Kevin Rooney, who worked there as a teenager, recalled being served a hot fudge sundae on a sweltering day — only to discover the “ice cream” was Crisco. Revenge came later in the form of a Coke spiked with Tabasco sauce.
George also kept a series of German shepherds — Rinny, Schultz and Dooley — named after a Jonathan Winters routine featuring talking beer steins. The dogs were locked inside at night for security. Tony Robert, another former employee, remembered coming in one day to find Schultz with the seat of someone’s pants in her jaws. When kids tried to sneak into a dance through the bathroom window after the fire marshal had closed the overcrowded place, George put Rinny in the restroom. Problem solved.
Anne also ran a no-nonsense operation. She marked liquor bottles at night so no one would sneak a drink, though the cleanup crew found ways around it, sipping the blackberry liquer instead. Along with cooking and baking everything from scratch, she raised their children in a life closely tied to the restaurant. The bus dropped their daughters off there after school, and one recalled doing homework while the family spent more time in the restaurant than in their nearby home.
George Phillips bakes fresh bread in the early morning hours at the Edgewood Restaurant.Provided
After 23 years of long hours — often more than 100 a week — George began stepping back, at times closing the restaurant to recover. He later moved into real estate and Anne opened a successful craft store.
George sold the place in 1972. At one point, it became a lively beer joint and concert venue, featuring local bands, such as Random Concept, Little Village and Good Friend Coyote. When New York lowered its drinking age to 18 — while it remained 21 just across the state line — it drew crowds from Connecticut. Locals called them “Connecticut Rags,” kids with fancy cars who came to dance, drink and sometimes fight, rocking the floors so hard they bounced like a trampoline and shook dust from the rafters.
At closing time, they had to dodge police waiting across the state line. Sometimes Jack Rooney, Kevin’s father and the bartender, drove them home. One morning, Betty Rooney got a call from a worried mother asking if her son was there. “If he’s wearing red tennis shoes,” she said, “he’s asleep on my front lawn.”
The Edgewood also drew actors from the Sharon Playhouse and notable visitors, including Paul Newman, Cole Porter and even Supreme Court justices. George showed silent movies on a sheet in the dining room, and guests could dance to the Les Schulman Orchestra or to George and his brothers, who had their own band.
It served as a gathering place for groups such as the Eastern Artificial Insemination Cooperative and for events like the Knights of Columbus Communion breakfast. Families marked milestones there — including one that celebrated five birthdays at a Palm Sunday brunch in 1970.
Christmas dinner cost $3 and included stuffed olives, roast pig, prime rib, Virginia ham, deep-sea scallops, Long Island duck, creamed onions and, of course, crème de menthe parfait. On New Year’s Eve 1959, dinner was $15 a couple — $7.50 each for all the champagne you could drink.
The venue came to an end when the building burned to the ground in 1985.
The building is gone, but not the memories — the laughter, the music, the meals, and George carving steaks by hand. He lived a century, but the Edgewood, for those who knew it, was timeless.
Next time you’re driving to Sharon and pass the empty, weedy lot with a rusty electric meter, imagine calling George’s old number to make a reservation for a place that lives on in memory.
Minimalist works by Agnes Martin on display at Dia:Beacon.
Martin, the Canadian-born New York and New Mexico resident who died in 2004, made the kind of ambiguous abstract art that inspires countless imitators and interpreters.
At first glance, most of the pieces in the new show, “Painting Is Not the Act of Painting,” (on display until June 22) are variations on simple lines and grids painstakingly applied by the artist’s own hand using paint and pencil.
Despite their relative simplicity, it took Martin years of rejecting her own artwork to reach this level of pure abstraction. She would often take knives to paintings she didn’t like, literally slashing work that didn’t live up to her expectations. It wasn’t until she was in her 50s that she began making the work she would become known for.
That evolution is reflected in the exhibition’s 24 works.
Dia:Beacon seems like a perfect place for them. The museum is a monument to simplicity. Even the most complicated pieces are abstractions in their own ways. A straight, unpainted plywood wall with diagonal backing by Donald Judd suggests a room under construction. Michael Heizer’s singular ovoid boulder embedded into a gallery wall strikes unease into visitors.
Subtle grids and softly layered lines by Agnes Martin draw the eye at Dia:BeaconD.H. Callahan
Martin’s pieces feel at home here. In the context of such visual, if not conceptual, simplicity, her art seems louder than it might in almost any other setting. Faint blue and peach stripes gain vibrancy when compared with the all-white canvases of Robert Ryman or the large gray mirrors of Gerhard Richter, both a few rooms away. By comparison, the visibly human-drawn lines of pencil or etched-out paint seem almost complicated, and technically masterful.
It’s enough to make you ponder the name of the exhibition, “Painting Is Not the Act of Painting,” pulled from a quote by Martin: “Painting is not making paintings; it is a development of awareness. And with this awareness, your work changes, but very slowly.”
In a world where studio assistants and fabricators contribute to the output of many artists, Martin relished the act of painting. She painted nearly every day of her adult life. For her, the process was an integral part of the work, and it’s hard to look at these pieces without appreciating her hand.
This repetitive study is also demonstrated across the hall in a gallery dedicated to a single work by Andy Warhol. The piece, “Shadows,” is a study of variations on a single subject. Warhol took photos of shadows in his office and, using a silkscreen process, painted them 102 times on identically sized canvases.
Walking into the room, it may seem like the same image repeated. On closer inspection, the canvases vary widely in color and composition. The work suggests that repetition can produce unexpected forms.
Agnes Martin has become enshrined as one of the leaders of the minimalist movement of the 1960s and ’70s. Her work and artistic philosophies have inspired countless admirers. This exhibition displays a selection of important pieces from nearly 50 years of practice.
Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.
