TORRINGTON — Three high school seniors from Torrington, Trevor Llewellyn, Mateusz Haratyk, Bobo Lwin, and their families recently returned from a triumphant trip to Agrigento in Sicily, Italy
Inspired by the short stories by Nobel Prize-winning Italian author Luigi Pirandello (1867-1936), the three friends wrote an original screenplay and created a hand-colored silent film, titled “Nailed,” as part of the CIAO program of the Connecticut Academy of the Arts (CAFTA).
They submitted their fifteen-minute film (which features Trevor as a convincing Pirandello having a philosophical dialogue with Diogenes, played by Mateusz, and Bobo as the detective) to the literary, theatrical and film competition in Agrigento, Italy that celebrates Pirandello’s literature and theatrical genius, “Uno, Nessuno, Centomila,” which translates to One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand.
The CAFTA students competed with 1,711 students representing 289 schools from 19 countries. The students rose to the top 10 internationally. The nominated filmmakers, and their families, were invited to the event, which was held May 6-9, 2024, in Sicily.
Grant funding for the trip was arranged by Julie Scharnberg of the NWCT Community Foundation, who said, “This is the best part of grantmaking—to see what can happen when students have the opportunity to participate in initiatives like CAFTA’s CIAO Program. So much hard work went into writing and producing such an insightful film. And then to see the level of recognition the three Torrington High School seniors received at the Agrigento film festival is thrilling and truly inspiring.” The grant was made possible by the City of Torrington with funds from The American Rescue Plan Act of 2021.
Teresa Graham-Sullivan, (co-founder and executive director of CAFTA), her husband John Sullivan (CAFTA co-founder), their dogs Zoe and Circe, the three young filmmakers, Trevor’s mother Michelle Hass, and Mateusz’s Aunt Justyna Ferenz traveled together to Agrigento, Italy (where Pirandello lived) on this whirlwind adventure.
Their film won the special Critics Choice Prize proposed by Italy’s renowned film critic, Benjamin Biondi for their film. CAFTA students also received a Certificate of Honor for their original script from the Director General of Culture for Italy, Alessandro De Pedys, as well as scholarships for script studies in Italy. Their work was well received at the Pirandello Theater where, according to the young men, they were “treated like rockstars with standing ovations” as they made their presentation. They were interviewed by RAI TV, Italy’s National Network.
Trevor Llewellyn as Luigi Pirandello in the award-winning, hand-colored silent film, “Nailed.”Courtesy of CAFTA
CAFTA, located on Prospect Street in Torrington, is the creative treasure of Teresa Graham-Sullivan and her husband John Henry Sullivan III. CAFTA’s mission is to “provide individuals of all ages the means to identify, explore, and utilize their creative ideas and talents with excellence and high standards on a competitively global level.”
Mateusz Haratyk, whose plans now include studying filmmaking in Poland and Italy, remarked that, “I got deeply interested in philosophy because I was looking for any ways to better my life. I began reading Pirandello by accident. What reading Pirandello means to me is understanding to never underestimate the power of planting a seed. Pirandello was writing for audiences in the 1920s but the themes and concepts of his works have never been more relevant than today. His work transcends generations and should be closely studied by modern audiences. Being invited to Agrigento was truly a life-changing experience. From the beautiful award ceremony to the incredible people we met, I can assure myself that this experience will never be forgotten.”
The filmmakers researched “Novellas for A Year” by Luigi Pirandello, who wrote 40 plays, numerous short stories, novels, and is considered the father of the Theater of the Absurd. The theme for “Nailed” was chosen by reflecting on the growing violence in the world. They were drawn to the author, who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1934, and his themes concerning the senselessness of human existence, questions about death and its meaning, our ability to dominate our irrational impulses, as well as the fact that our lives are often in someone else’s hands.
After returning home, Trevor Llewellyn, who is bound for the Maine Maritime Academy in Castine, Maine, to become a pilot, commented, “Being able to return [he competed there when he was in 8th grade, also through CAFTA] to Agrigento was an amazing feeling. I’m so glad that I was able to see some old friends and meet new people. The contest was organized beautifully, and everyone involved made us feel welcomed and accepted. I am unbelievably grateful to all the organizers, judges and other contestants.”
Mayor Elinor Carbone has planned a ceremony to present the young filmmakers with a Special Commendation from their City of Torrington. This August, Rep. Jahana Hayes (D-5) will award each young man with a Special Congressional Citation in recognition for their excellence in their work presented during the Luigi Pirandello Contest 2024.
Bobo Lwin, who now plans on becoming an electrician, added, “Going to Agrigento is like a movie, from all the cheers from the audience to meeting new people and tasting the culture, I know that this experience will always be in my heart.”
Their film, “Nailed,” has been entered into this year’s prestigious Venice Film Festival as part of the Venice Biennale 2024.
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.
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