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From Shy Farm Boy to Renowned Landscape Architect By Elise Linscott Gladstone Photos by Michael Lavin Flower, Courtesy of Walter Cudnohufsky Associates, Inc. Spring 2026 Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue Walter Cudnohufsky Growing up in southern Michigan, Walter Cudnohufsky was “a shy farm kid who loved making things grow and walking animals around at the county fair,” as he puts it. In order to truly like and accept himself, he made it a goal to overcome his shyness by teaching—and he’s found a myriad of ways to marry teaching into his career as a landscape architect and planner, and even as a painter. Today, his local legacy includes founding the Conway School for Landscape Design in Northampton, where he also served as director from 1972 to 1992; starting a landscape design and planning firm based in Ashfield; and designing gardens and outdoor spaces for clients ranging from Shakespeare & Company to the Town of Great Barrington and private gardens around New England. “I’m an unusual guy because I started out deciding as a sophomore in high school with a guidance counselor that I wanted to be a landscape architect,” he says. “And here I am a few years later, still acting as a landscape architect.” His teaching philosophy, which is still in use at the Conway School today, is to be a learner as much as a teacher. That’s also how he overcame his shyness, by thinking of himself asa facilitator and co-learner at the school rather than labeling himself as a teacher. This is also an approach he’s enacted at his firm, Walter Cudnohufsky Associates, Inc. He is still an associate at the firm but handed over ownership to Chuck Schnell and Kirsten Baringer last April. Both Schnell and Baringer were graduates of the Conway School and have been working with Cudnohufsky for years. “Walt’s influence on me is immeasurable,” Baringer says. “Though I have other influences and background and my own sensibilities, the school he founded opened to me the world of landscape architecture and planning. “Walt is a consummate mentor who gave his employees a lot of space and responsibility in their work. I have not been on a project where he didn’t see opportunities to incorporate learning and reflection, for all parties involved. Under his tutelage, one is encouraged to ask questions and challenge assumptions, to think outside of the box.” A view of a private residence in Alford. Schnell and Cudnohufsky also teach a horticulture certificate level two course at Berkshire Botanical Garden (BBG). Schnell used to accompany Cudnohufsky to the course as an assistant until Cudnohufsky asked Schnell to step in as lead teacher, with Cudnohufsky now making guest instructor appearances. (The next class begins on March 26; more information at berkshirebotanical.org .) The BBG course incorporates a shortened version of the design process they implement at the firm’s office for most of their projects, Schnell says. “Most of it starts with asking the students at an early stage to identify their own values and whether they have design prejudices so that they know that going into any situation,” Schnell says. The other piece of design that Schnell and Cudnohufsky teach students is to identify their feelings when seeing a particular site. At the firm, Cudnohufsky encourages his associates to note what they see and feel when pulling up to a site for the first time, encouraging themselves and their students to tune in to those sensory experiences. “Really good architecture and garden design and landscape design spaces are not only visually appealing but also create some sort of an emotional response,” Schnell says. Greater self- knowledge is also one of the unspoken goals of the Conway School curriculum, he says, and one that helps students when they’re working on their own design projects. Jenna O’Brien, owner of Viridissima Horticulture & Design, took Cudnohufsky’s course at BBG years ago and has since worked alongside him on projects in the Berkshires. She now teaches a horticulture certificate level one program at BBG, where she’s also a trustee. She’s always appreciated Cudnohufsky’s approach to design by honoring the landscape at large, as well as his out-of-the box approach to teaching. That includes driving students up north through New England to stop and look at gardens and landscapes along the way and talk about why they work or what they evoke. Cudnohufsky himself seems to embody the philosophy that one can always be a learner. Now an accomplished watercolor painter, he started painting on a trip to Maine with a friend 35 years ago, when he was about 50. In the years since, he has taught workshops in watercolor technique up until the pandemic—and hopes to begin teaching again. He still displays his work annually as part of the Ashfield Fall Festival. Several of his watercolors can also be found in the book he co-authored with Mollie Babize, titled Cultivating the Designer’s Mind: Principles and Process for Coherent Landscape Design . A private residence near the village of Housatonic, which had a planting plan that strongly focused on native plants. Sometimes, Cudnohufsky’s role extends beyond just the plantings around a space. For some projects, he’s teamed up with architects like the Great Barrington-based firm Clark Green + Bek, to influence the overall design of the building as it goes through construction. Since their first collaboration on a client’s “dream home” in Lenox, Cudnohufsky’s team has done more than 200 projects partnering with the architectural firm. “I love working in teamwork where the boundaries between architecture and landscape are blurred and where we’re not afraid to make suggestions about the building,” he says, citing the Lenox project in which his team “changed the whole footprint of the house and how we related it to the land.” Overall, Cudnohufsky says he appreciates the varied aspects of being a landscape architect and artist. “As a profession, you deal with not only aesthetics, but plants and nature and politics and finances and technical and artistic,” he says. “All those languages that go with those subjects get teased into the brain and become fodder. It’s a very expansive profession that also allows for inclusive community building and self-discovery.” Further Reading (online exclusive): Designing Your Home’s Landscape and Gardens For the homeowner who wants an update to their exterior but doesn’t know where to start, landscape architect and planner Walter Cudnohufsky implores them to take note of their use patterns around the home and gardens and ask a few questions: Where in the yard have you not been? Why don't you go there? Where have you been the most? What time of year? How long do you stay? What gives you the greatest amount of joy? What do you look forward to seeing when you step out of the door? And what do you look at? When my husband and I bought our home nearly two years ago, the landscaping looked like it hadn’t been touched in the 50 years since the house was built. The plants consisted mainly of overgrown shrubs around the perimeter of the house, along with several large, lovely rhododendrons that are covered with beautiful purple flowers in spring. While the rhododendrons were easy to identify as aspects we liked, we knew the rest needed work. But the more I started thinking about Cudnohufsky’s questions, I realized that although the shrubs are overgrown, I like the two that frame the front steps. Certainly, they could be replaced with plants of a more appropriate size that are in proportion to the house and don’t block the edges of the windows on either side. This would preserve the welcoming feel of the greenery around the entrance to the house. Cudnohufsky discourages clients from pointing to someone else’s yard and saying, “I want that.” Every homeowner’s needs are individual, even on the same street. For instance, one homeowner might have two kids while another doesn’t and would therefore have different uses for their yard. He encourages clients to work with the design teams on creating a plan for each project so that they can find a collaborative solution and plan to enact it, from small to large changes. And while several firms work on multi-million dollar projects, many also do small-scale work for homeowners looking for advice. Even a few hours can be enough to make a difference and get homeowners’ wheels turning. —Elise Linscott Gladstone

Kenny Aronoff is one of the world's most in-demand session and live drummers, and it all started in his hometown of Stockbridge By Anastasia Stanmeyer Spring 2026 Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue There's no mistaking Kenny Aronoff. You can spot him a mile away with his rock star sunglasses and lean physique, confidently walking across a stage with Sammy Hagar as tens of thousands of fans go wild in an arena. In a more intimate setting of the Kennedy Center, where Aronoff performed numerous times, you couldn’t miss him positioned behind his drum kit, powerful and precise as Lady Gaga serenaded Sting, that night’s honoree. It’s Aronoff ’s passion and laser focus that makes him a legendary drummer. You might say that he’s a quintessential product of the Berkshires, a region that is exceptionally rich in its musical heritage. (Kenny Ingle) For those of us who came of age in the 1980s, we couldn’t listen to 30 minutes of pop radio without a John Cougar Mellencamp song coming on. It wasn’t just the singer’s voice that was distinctive; it was Aronoff ’s high-energy backbeat that defined the Heartland Rock sound. You heard it in Mellencamp’s first #1 single (“Jack and Diane”), as well as other hits like “Hurts So Good,” “Pink Houses (Ain’t That America),” and “Small Town.” In every single song, there’s a distinctive drum playing, often anchored by a 4/4 signature that emphasizes a gritty, American roots-rock feel. Those are songs that launched Aronoff’s career some 44 years ago. He’s still going strong, transcending time and music genres. Aronoff is the first to say that it’s all about serving the music, as well as not taking “no” for an answer. This small town boy whose first band at age ten was formed in the barn of his family’s Stockbridge home, was not only the stick man for Mellencamp from 1980to 1996. He has performed and recorded with John Fogerty off and on for more than30 years and has been the go-to studio beatsmith for the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Diamond, Eric Clapton, Sting, the Smashing Pumpkins,Willie Nelson, Melissa Etheridge, Jon Bon Jovi, Stevie Nicks, Santana, and tons more artists. In all, Kenny Aronoff has upwards of 300 million records sold featuring his work and over 1,300 certified Gold, Platinum, or Diamond awards by the Recording Industry Association of America. He has had more than 60 Grammy® contributions and more than a dozen #1 singles. Catch him while you can near the Berkshires when he joins legendary guitar icons Joe Satriani and Steve Vai to bring their SatchVai Band on a “Surfing with The Hydra” U.S. tour to the Palace Theatre in Albany on May 21. Aronoff also joins Hagar in the “Best of All Worlds” show that comes within a few hours of the Berkshires at the Xfinity Center in Mansfield on June 24. This prolific drummer couldn’t be more forthcoming about his Berkshire roots and his approach to success. On the day I interviewed him, Aronoff spent the morning refining a keynote talk that he was to give at a corporate meeting in the Bahamas, combining storytelling with his experiences working with other big-name artists. Later, he planned to work on three charts that he will record in his LA studio. Those two separate worlds— motivational speaker and kick-ass drummer—are part of the Aronoff brand he has built. We talked about the evolution of the music industry (and himself ) and the importance of passion, perseverance, and innovation in overcoming challenges—and not bullshitting yourself. ANASTASIA: You’ve been in the industry for nearly five decades. How has it changed? KENNY: People used to fly me all over the world to make records, sometimes to record just one song. That all went away when people stopped buying records. So, I relocated to LA, got my own studio, people send me files, and then I record drums for them and send them out. Playing music is what I want to do—I’ve got to do it and I can’t not do it. That’s the fuel that helps me to push through all the setbacks and all the obstacles that we run into in life. ANASTASIA: How did your music career begin and evolve? KENNY: I went to college, because that’s what we did in our family. I did one year at UMass Amherst. I spent one summer after my freshman year at the Aspen School of Music, run by Juilliard. That’s what got me to Indiana University, because my teacher at Aspen, George Gaber, was the head of the percussion department at Indiana. I demanded an audition, and after going back and forth many times, he realized, “Hey, this guy really wants to come study with me.” Every spring while I was at Indiana University, I would also audition to go to Tanglewood. I got rejected the first year, the second year, the third year, and the fourth year I got in. That’s where I got to work with Leonard Bernstein, Seiji Ozawa, and Aaron Copland. I was not the most talented at Indiana, but I had my passion and desire, which was the fuel that made me work hard, be self-disciplined, and persevere. I wanted to be the best that I could. I’d stay in the practice room till two in the morning, till they kicked me out. At a school like Indiana University, there are virtuoso, genius players, but I had my personality and skillset, which was being part of team and knowing how to connect and communicate with people on a very personal level. That came natural to me. ANASTASIA: So, this was not something you developed overnight. What happened after Indiana? KENNY: When I graduated from Indiana University, I got into the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. Touchdown! My parents invested all this money in their kid to go to college, and then he gets a job in the field that he studied. The American Dream. And I turned it down. Everybody’s like, “What are you doing?” And I’m even looking in the mirror going, “I can’t believe what you just did.” But here’s the takeaway: Thank God I followed my heart. My heart wanted to be in a rock-and-roll band, because at age ten in little old Stockbridge, when I saw The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show on that black-and-white TV set, I went, “What? Who are those guys, mom?” “Well, they’re The Beatles.” I said, “I want to be in The Beatles. I want to play drums. Forget about those piano lessons.” That’s when I realized what my purpose in life was, before I even knew what those words meant. “I want todothat.Iwanttobeinaband.Iwanttogrowmyhair,and I want to wear those cool clothes, and I want the girls going crazy over me like them. I want a set of drums.” They saw that I was crazy about rock and roll. From that point on, they supported me, got a snare drum and a cymbal, and I started my first band with John Sauer called The Alley Cats, with Jeff Hodges and Steve Harris. We played Beatles music. I shut my eyes, and I dreamed that I was in The Beatles, with my hair long and wearing a cool suit. Kenny got a snare drum and a cymbal at age ten and started his first band called The Alley Cats. (Courtesy of Kenny Aronoff) ANASTASIA: And you were only ten? KENNY: Yes, ten years old. Check this out: Fifty years later, I get a call from a producer. He says, “Hey, Kenny, man, are you available on this day? We’re doing a tribute to The Beatles on CBS called ‘The Night That Changed America: A Grammy Salute to The Beatles,’” honoring The Beatles for the Ed Sullivan Show that I saw, and that 73 million North Americans saw, that changed our lives. I got to play with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. ANASTASIA: Talk about full circle. KENNY: I followed my heart. I was willing to turn down a paycheck, a job, move back to Stockbridge, move into my parents’ house. I was practicing eight hours a day, not knowing where this was going because I had no blueprint on how to get into a band like The Beatles. My desire to want to make it kept me from overcoming the setbacks and the obstacles. ANASTASIA: What was your lucky break? KENNY: Well, I’m home for a year, and I’m like, “Where am I going with this?” I was playing gigs in New York and different places. Then a bunch of guys called me up from Indiana and said, “Hey, we’re starting a band. Somebody’s investing a bunch of money. We’re gonna get a truck, a PA, lights, live in a band house.” I thought, that’s cool, a band house. The business model was that you write songs, and then you get a record deal. They give you money, you make the record, you go out and sell the product. Maybe you get on the radio, and then you repeat and repeat and repeat, and then suddenly you become The Rolling Stones. Well, that didn’t happen. Three years after going to Bloomington, I go, “I’m 27 years old. I’ve got to move to either New York, Nashville, or LA where the music business is.” A week before I was supposed to go, I have lunch with a singer-songwriter. She says, “Hey, man, what are you doing?” I said, “Well, I’m gonna go to New York.” She says, “Oh, man, you’re gonna crush it.” Then she says, “You know that guy in Bloomington? He’s got a record deal, he’s on this new network called MTV, and he’s on the radio. Well, he just got off tour opening for Kiss, and he just fired his drummer.” ANASTASIA: I guess your plans changed andyou didn’t go to New York? KENNY: I went running out of the restaurantand to a pay phone. I happen to have the guitar player’s numbers. I called him up and said, “Hey, Mike, Kenny Aronoff here. I hear you might need a drummer. I want to audition.” He says, “Call me back in a couple of weeks. We’re trying to figure some stuff out.” I go from the telephone booth to the record store, Karma Records. I bought [Mellencamp’s] most recent record, went home, wrote every drum beat out and memorized the record. The audition was great. Two songs, 15 minutes. The boss goes upstairs after the audition, and I’m packing up, going, “Oh man, this is so cool. I gotta get this gig.” Mike comes down ten minutes later, smiles at me, shakes my hand, and goes, “Welcome to hell.” Five weeks later, we’re making a record at Cherokee Studios in Hollywood. Two days later, I get fired. ANASTASIA: Fired? What happened? KENNY: I had no experience making records that get on the radio and become hit singles.The producer could tell I was green, and it didn’t matter if I worked with Leonard Bernstein or ifI won a concerto competition. My experience of serving the team, serving the song, was zero. The producer, Steve Cropper, needed to get that record done in eight weeks because he was going on tour with the Blues Brothers. I’m devastated. We have a band meeting, and the boss goes, “Kenny, you’re not playing on the record. I’ll pay for the rest of the week, and then you go home.” The words that came out of my mouth were life changing. “No freaking way am I going home. I ain’t going back to Bloomington.” I was in a fight or fight mode, not a fight or flight mode. “I’m this close, and you’re not taking it away from me. I’d rather go to Mars than go back home and tell everybody I didn’t cut it.” He said, “You’re fired.” And I said, “No, I’m not.” I was fumbling, but I told him that I was gonna go in the studio and watch those other drummers play my drum parts on your record, and I’ll learn from them, and I’ll get better, because I’m your drummer. I told him that he didn’t need to pay me, and I’d sleep on the couch. He said, “Perfect.” ANASTASIA: I imagine you had nothing to lose. KENNY: I go to the studio every day. I’m embarrassed. I feel like a loser, but I take a pad and pencil, I start writing things down, I talk to the drummers, and I realize, wow, okay, this is about serving the song, serving the band. I have to be a great drummer for him. I have to learn how to play drums for his music. So I go home and I revamp my whole approach to drumming. I started listening to the radio and I started buying records to understand what the drummers are doing for the music that gets played on the radio. I’m playing Credence Clearwater Revival, The Stones, Bad Company, The Beatles, understanding the simplicity yet the genius of these drum parts and how it all fits into the music. The next record was two years later, and then we went on tour, opening up for The Kinks. We did American Bandstand, Solid Gold, Don Kirshner, so I was hanging in there. Then we’re making this record at Criteria Studios in Miami. It was the hardest record I ever made. [Mellencamp] was going through a divorce, was about to lose his record deal, and he almost died right in front of me. We were living in Bloomington and going into town one nightto have a couple of drinks. He goes by me and the bass player on a Harley at 80 miles an hour, no helmet, gives us the finger, and all sudden, the bike is down, I see sparks and an explosion. We slam on our brakes and go, “Holy shit! He’s dead.” Then we see him limping. What had happened? A dog came out from a farm, hit his bike, bike goes down, he gets on top of the bike, spins down the road, and before he hit a tree, he jumped off. Above , Kenny Aronoff was the drummer for John Mellencamp for17 years, shaping the sound of HeartlandRock on several hits. (1982, courtesy of Kenny Aronoff) ANASTASIA: What was Mellencamp like to work for? KENNY: He was a cranky mofo in the studio. Two guys got fired in the band. What this guy needed was ideas.He could write the songs, but he needed input from us, and we were all young and green, and so he was yelling at everybody. I almost got into a fist fight with him. One day, I walked in the studio, and I see the co-producers got this metal box. I said, “Hey, Don, what’s that?” He goes, “Well, the Bee Gees are using it next door. It’s the new technology. We’re gonna use it on this song.” This box is called the Linn LM-1 drum machine. I said, “Drum machine? They replace drummers!” I went into that fight or fight mode. I grabbed the machine and the manual and said, “I’m going to be part of this new shit.” I didn’t know what I was doing, but I programmed what I was playing on the drums.It sounded different because it was stiff, like a machine. Hall & Oats had music on the radio with drum machines, and Phil Collins had “In the Air Tonight,” which was a drum machine and then the drums come in. I gave the machine back to them, and I’m sitting there sulking and bummed out. I get called into the control room two hours later, and my boss goes, “Hey, Aronoff, we need a drum solo right here after the second chorus. This machine is boring.” I say to myself, “Save the song, save your career. If you don’t come up with a solution, you’ll get fired. This is it.” And I’m also thinking, “Serve the song.” Back in 1981, they would do drums in little rooms and control the sound. This guy wanted the biggest drum sound in the world, so we put it in a big room, but nobody knew quite where to put the room mics. It was a whole experiment. Finally, it’s my turn. I do a simple little entrance that would be an explosion. Like, “Hello, everybody, here I am!” I stopped and looked into control room. I wanted validation. I was young. I didn’t know about self-validation yet, and I was looking for answers, and I got nine guys in there looking at me, smoking cigarettes, with their thumbs up. ANASTASIA: That’s so great! KENNY: Then, I hit a dead end. I kept trying things. I’ve got half the people telling me what to play and the other half telling me what not to play. My head’s spinning. I tell myself, “Dude, you have to figure this out yourself.” I’m 40 feet from the drums. I’m going, “What are you gonna play, Kenny?” I’m 30 feet from the drums, “I don’t know.” Twenty feet. “Dude, you’re gonna lose your job. What are you gonna play?” Ten feet. “I don’t know.” I get to the drums, I sit down, I look at them, and I’m freaking out. Then the light goes off in my head. “I’ll just take what you’ve already been doing and rearrange it.” I came up with a drum solo, and that song made it on the record. Touchdown! They released the album six months later. The first single goes to number two on the top 100 charts. The song that kept it out of the number one slot was “Eye of the Tiger” from Rocky . Then they released this song with my drum solo, and it goes to number one. Now we got two songs on Top 10. “Jack and Diane” became this huge hit. “Hurts So Good” was number two. That album, American Fool , sold millions of copies. John Cougar got two Grammys®. That completely blew up John’s career and launched my career. (Courtesy of Kenny Aronoff) ANASTASIA: It takes perseverance, time, and believing in yourself, right? KENNY: And you got to feel it. When I saw The Beatles, that spark ignited and has not stopped. I’m now going out with Sammy Hagar and The Best of All Worlds Band. We’re going to do two residencies this year in Vegas. I’m basically in Van Halen. I love it. We’re also doing two weeks in June across America, then four big shows in the UK—London, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds—where rock and roll started, with Joan Jett in arenas, and then more residencies. Then I’m going down in a private jet and a bus with Joe Satriani and Steve Vai in the same band called the SatchVai Band for nine weeks straight, April and May. I just played with Billy Gibbons at The Troubadour for three nights. I’m the guy who wakes up every morning and can’t wait to do what I’m going to do. ANASTASIA: And it all began in the Berkshires, where you were classically trained first. KENNY: When I was in The Alley Cats at age ten, we were all self-taught. A buddy of mine, Tommy Gibson, was getting better. And I said, “What are you doing?” He said he was studying with Arthur Press from the Boston Symphony Orchestra. So I started studying with Arthur Press, and he is the one that pivoted me into going to college. There was no hand-holding or trophies given out. There was no coddling. These BSO guys were tough. They came from families with no money, and they busted their asses, practicing eight hours a day. And so they instilled this in me. I realized the value of what they were giving me. When I went to Aspen, I saw George Gaber from Indiana University. He was so deep and rich with so much information, both as a percussionist and as a philosopher, I said, “I’m going with him.” So yes, the environment of the Berkshires was a big impact. ANASTASIA: Did you meet any other notable people here when you were growing up? KENNY: I used to go over to Norman Rockwell’s house.I stole cigarettes from his pewter dishes to give them my friend’s older brother so he would like me. I was maybe in third grade. Rockwell used to come to our house, too. He’d ride his bike with his wife-to-be or maybe his wife at that point, Molly Punderson. We lived on Yale Hill Road. If I walked an eighth of a mile, I was at the home of Norman Mailer. I used to hang out over his house all the time. My brother, Jonathan, and my sister, Nina, we were always going to rock concerts at Tanglewood and Music Inn. My dad was a businessman. He worked at a paper mill in Lee. My mom was a school teacher. But then they would do acting. They were in plays in Stockbridge, right on Main Street, at the Riggs Theatre. My mom was in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf ? My dad would have men’s groups come to the house, where they would discuss things or have poetry readings. The day I graduated Monument Mountain High School, I started practicing eight hours a day because I was going to college and I felt I was behind, and I wanted to be the greatest percussionist and drummer possible.I would practice two hours a day in the dining room ona set of vibes, doing scales and reading technique; two hours on timpani in the living room, tuning, technique, playing music, reading; two hours on a snare drum in my bedroom, rudiments. And then two hours on my favorite instrument in the barn, the drum set. My brother and sister, all they heard was banging all the time, and so they just left the house. Not my mom; she loved it. I would play at the Red Lion Inn at night with a jazz group with John Sauer. There was this community and support. In high school, I was on three varsity sports: soccer, skiing, lacrosse. My brother and I were into sports, and then we would come home, do homework, and then we’d have rock-and-roll band practice in the barn, and all our friends would come over. That was normal for us. Kenny Aronoff joins Sammy Hagar in the “Best of All Worlds” show that comes within a few hours of the Berkshires at the Xfinity Center in Mansfield on June 24. (Lou Countryman) ANASTASIA: And then you were a Tanglewood Music Center fellow? KENNY: Yes. It was as good as a symphony orchestra anywhere, and I got to play on the big stage. There were seven percussionists at the time, six of them came from New England Conservatory, and me. Our teacher was Vic Firth. I spent one summer studying with Vic, and we became real good friends. He liked me, and that helped me probably get into Tanglewood. The first rehearsal, Seiji Ozawa comes into the Shed wearing a white flowing garment, his hair was immaculate, and he just stared at us. He looked at the first chair violinist and asked, “What are we performing today?” Seiji’s acting like he didn’t know. But he had every score memorized. The violinist said, “Well, we’re doing this and this.” And Seiji said, “Let’s do the Ravel.” Hands went up like the most menacing fighter jet, with the snarly face and his wings out. He just held it there. We’re like, “Holy shit.” Then he started conducting. I’ve never seen such movement. It was menacing and artful at the same time. He stopped after 20 seconds and completely ripped through every section of the orchestra. What he was doing was yielding his power. He immediately wanted to show everybody who he was, and this was how he was going to get his troops, his army, at attention. I’m not holding your hand. I’m not your daddy. I’m not your teacher. I’m Seiji Ozawa. At the end of rehearsal, everybody scattered, and I was trying to pick everything up, and I heard people talking. It’s Leonard Bernstein and Seiji. Seiji was on the podium, and Lenny had been in the audience watching. Seiji says, “I don’t understand this orchestra! They’re not as good as they should be. They’re supposed to be the most elite!” Lenny put his hand on his shoulder and says, “They are the best, Seiji. Show some love and compassion, and they will play for you.” The first week’s concert, the three percussionists from New England Conservatory get the timpani parts and played with Seiji. The next week, the other three percussionists get to play timpani. Now it’s the third week, and I’m the only guy playing timpani. My mom’s in the audience. I could see her crying. You know, they used to bring me to Tanglewood when I was young, I’d be running around, and everybody would say, “Shut up, kid! You’re making noise.” Then I went and saw The Who there, and I saw Jethro Tull there, and I saw the Jefferson Airplane there. I used to be on the lawn smoking joints, watching Miles Davis open up for Santana. Now I’m on stage in a tuxedo playing timpani with Leonard Bernstein, Sebelius’ Fifth Symphony. It was one of the most iconic, surreal moments of my life. I was 22. The first time I played Kennedy Center Honors, I was in the house band that honored The Who and George Jones. After the dinner, I go up to Roger Daltrey and Pete Townsend and say, “Hey, you guys. Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt you at dinner, but I was the drummer tonight honoring you guys. I gotta tell you, I saw you at Tanglewood when I was 13.” And Pete Townsend goes, “It’s a Beautiful Day and Jethro Tull opened for us.” That was 1970, and he remembered. ANASTASIA: Before Tanglewood, you were hanging out at the Music Inn. What moments stood out to you from that time? KENNY: I saw Bonnie Raitt there when she was 17. I have recorded and performed with Bonnie Raitt many times since then. I just saw her in Europe, when I was on tour and she announced my name to the audience. When I was 13, I carried the bags and wardrobe for Ike and Tina Turner and the Ikettes. Oh, my God. Badass. Years later, I went on tour with John Fogerty, opening up for Tina Turner with 100,000 people a night in stadiums. I saw all kinds of bands at the Music Inn, and all those jazz concerts. Then I started working there. I just hung out and waited for somebody to tell me to do something. I wanted to be on that stage so bad. ANASTASIA: You’ve played with so many musicians through the years and have adapted to so many different styles, yet you still remain who you are. How does that happen? KENNY: I just love music. At Indiana University, I was glad to be playing any music. It all was great to me—country music, rock, classical, jazz. I’ll give you an example. I was doing a week of recording with Cinderella in Philadelphia, then I went to Nashville, did a week of country with Hank Williams Jr. Then I went to New Orleans and Canada to record on albums before flying to New York to record with the Buddy Rich Big Band. But if you ask me what my favorite style of music is, I’ll take a Les Paul and a Marshall stack. I like to rock. (Robert Downs) ANASTASIA: What keeps you grounded? KENNY: I’ve got a line that goes like this: “I’ll never be as great as I want to be, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be as great as I can be.” I’m humbled by what I’m not able to do, and I’m eager to always achieve the things I can’t do right now. When “Jack and Diane” went to number one and I was in the same room I got fired from two years before, I celebrated for two seconds, and I went, “I’m not as good as it sounds. I need to do it again.” It’s like an NFL football player. Those guys, the running backs, they’re always trying to get a touchdown, but they don’t get a touchdown every time. Play by play, game by game, season by season, sometimes you get a touchdown, sometimes five yards, two yards, minus two fumble. Sometimes they break their leg in preseason and are out for the whole season. But they come back because they love football. One touchdown isn’t a career. One record isn’t their career. What grounds me is that I’m reminded that I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to be as great as I can be. ANASTASIA: You have a podcast that people can view on YouTube, and you also came out with a book ten years ago, Sex, Drums, Rock ’n’ Roll! Are you working on another book, in-between everything else you have going on? KENNY: I wrote a self-help book that I will eventually put out. It will be kind of a workbook, where you’ll have a place to write stuff down. There are so many things that I’ve learned that got me to where I am and what has kept me where I am. I have commandments, and my 11th commandment is “Thou shalt not bullshit thyself.” In other words, if you bullshit other people, that’s one thing. But if you bullshit yourself, it’s like you’re wasting your life away....You have to do the work, and you have to start by going, “This is what I need to work on.” Aronoff has upwards of 300 million records sold featuring his work and over 1,300 certified Gold, Platinum, or Diamond awards by the RIAA. (Robert Downs) ANASTASIA: What do you say to young musicians who are trying to get into the industry and may be ready to give up? KENNY: This applies to any musician at any time in the history of life. You’ve got to work your ass off. If this is your passion, as it was mine, you have to work. It should be, “I can’t live a day without doing this.” If you’re that person, you will be successful in some fashion. If you need to have three roommates and work at Starbucks and Home Depot so you can play music, you’re a success story, because you are happy. The greatest thing you can do in life is to be happy, because the ripple effect of your joy and happiness affects everybody that you come in contact with. I guess you could say you’re doing God’s work. You are a happy soul. You’re affecting other people and making them happy. This all comes from you doing what makes you happy, which, for a musician, is playing music. You have to practice and practice and keep doing it every day. Your success is following your heart. Read Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue HERE.

Photos courtesy Bernadette Peters and Barrington Stage Company August 24 Interview by Dr. Joshua Sherman While many people know me as “Dr. Sherman” or “Publisher of Berkshire Magazine ,” I’m actually a “Broadway Baby,” having started my career training under such legendary theater artists as Al Hirschfeld, Tony Walton, Peter Harvey, Santo Loquasto, and Willa Kim. My first Broadway credit (at age 18) was as part of Tony Walton’s design team on the Broadway revival of Annie Get Your Gun , starring … ( drumroll ) Bernadette Peters!  The legendary star of stage and screen celebrates the 30th Anniversary of Barrington Stage Company with a sold-out concert on August 27. It’s over 25 years since that production opened on Broadway. Recently, I had the great pleasure of chatting with Bernadette after all these years. Here are excerpts from our delightful conversation: I’ve been a great fan of yours since I was six years old and saw you on the 1986 Tony Awards®, singing “Some People” from Gypsy . That same year, you won your first Tony® for Song & Dance . Long before YouTube existed, I watched that show—which was the 40th Anniversary of the Tony Awards®—on VHS over and over. What do you remember about that night? I wore a purple Bob Mackie dress. I remember winning and how nice that was, and how grateful I was to my manager. We all work so hard, all of us performers. We love it, and we do it for the love, but you have to put in the work. It was a great night, and I appreciated it very much. After seeing you perform that night, I was determined to see more of your work. I went to the Museum of Television and Radio in New York City. There, I discovered that at six years old, a young “Bernadette Lazzara” was on the show Name That Tune . What do you remember from that experience? I remember running, running, running! You know, you had to run, ring a bell, and then name the tune. My mother reminded me that I lost on “Yonkers Raceway.” I think that was the title, unless I’m reversing it. I said, “Horses, Horses, Horses,” or “Yonkers Raceway.” It was one or the other, but it was close. I think I won almost $1,000, but not quite. They also gave me sneakers. I'm a shoe person, so I remember the sneakers that they gave me. Do you still have the sneakers? (Laughs) No. You started in the industry as a child, and many actors go into the theater because they are starstruck. Who were some of your heroes or celebrity crushes as a child? I grew up watching Million Dollar Movie . I would come home from school by 3:30, and at four o'clock, Million Dollar Movie was on. Those were the movies from the 1930s and 1940s. That's where I learned all about Ruby Keeler, who I went on to play in Dames at Sea with designs by (your mentor) Peter Harvey. From those movies, I learned all about Ruby Keeler and Rita Hayworth. That was my training as a young girl. We also used to watch The Ed Sullivan Show . That was so great, because Ed Sullivan used to have Broadway shows on his show every Sunday night. My mother made sure we had money for me to take lessons, but we didn't have money to go to the theater. I learned about Broadway performers by seeing them do numbers on television. Television is a very powerful medium, because it can bring live theater into your living room. That was my experience with you on the ‘86 Tony Awards. It’s very powerful! And live television was so great in those days. I loved when they would do musical specials. You would see Frank Sinatra sing with Lena Horne and Tony Bennett and Harry Belafonte. What could be better? You mentioned a few of the stars from the ‘40s, including Ruby Keeler. Did you ever get to work with any of them, and did you ever get to meet any of your childhood heroes? I met Ruby Keeler once, I believe, very briefly. I used to do these specials called Night of 100 Stars . I shared a dressing room with Carol Channing, who was so great. Of course, on those shows, you would meet Lana Turner, Rock Hudson, Esther Williams, Joan Collins, and all these stars that I grew up watching. It was really fun. Moving on to your career on Broadway. You recently starred in Jerry Herman's Hello, Dolly! , but another Jerry Herman show, Mack & Mabel , has one of my all-time favorite scores. Tell me about Jerry Herman and Mack & Mabel . Jerry Herman was always so positive, and what happened with Mack & Mabel is interesting. I had auditioned for it, and I didn't get it, and they hired someone else. Apparently, they fired that person and they hired someone else. Meanwhile, when they hired the second one, I was living in Los Angeles. But at that time, I was in New York, because I was doing game shows. I was on my way to Canada to do a game show and then come back to New York, and Jerry Herman started calling me on the phone. He said, “Where are you now?” I said, “I'm in New York, but I have to go to Bernadette Peters in the Broadway revival of Hello, Dolly! Canada.” He said, “When are you coming back?” That's all he said. I went to Canada, did a game show called Beat the Clock , came back, and got on a plane to go back to L.A. The plane had engine trouble, and we all had to get off and take a later flight. They didn't have cell phones yet in those days, so I got on a pay phone, I called my manager in L.A., and I said, “I'm not on that plane.” She said, “Wait a minute—David Merrick’s office is on the other line. They want you to stay in New York. Don’t get on the plane. They want you to go into the show!” Jerry was always a positive force, but all of a sudden, we were out of town somewhere, and he didn’t look happy anymore. He was getting discouraged, because the show wasn't evolving the way he wanted it to. We started in San Diego and went to L.A., where it was a big hit, and then we traveled across the country to make some money before we got to New York. The producer David Merrick put us in a huge outdoor theater—I think it was in St Louis. In those days, the sound was not finessed yet. You would hear your voice coming back at you, and the whole show was totally out of whack. Along the way somewhere, I saw that Jerry was getting disheartened, and that worried me. In those days, they didn't really have dark shows yet. Mabel Normand was a drug addict towards the end of her life, and she died. Everybody kept saying, “You can't have a show where it's so dark at the end.” Then they put in a happy-ever-after, wedding-type thing. There were problems with the show. It never quite held together, and I couldn't put my finger exactly on it. All I know is it's a brilliant score, and I loved working with Jerry. When I did Hello, Dolly! , I got to talk to him again. I had no idea what a beautifully constructed show Hello, Dolly! was, until I finally became a part of it. At first, I studied the original Thornton Wilder play The Matchmaker , and I realized it was such a great character. I had also seen Carol Channing do it on Broadway. I stole a couple of things from her, and I realized why she wanted to do it for the rest of her life. It’s a totally uplifting experience for the performer and the audience. You released a full album of Rodgers and Hammerstein. What made you want to record their catalog? I grew up with those albums in my house. I remember listening to Carousel . I just love that show. I fell in love with it when I was a little girl listening to the music. Bernadette Peters in the Broadway revival of Hello, Dolly! We talked a little bit about Song & Dance and you winning the Tony Award®, but we didn't mention Andrew Lloyd Webber. Are there any particular stories from that show that you'd like to share? When I was told about the show, I didn't think I was hearing correctly. My manager called me on the phone and said, “The whole first act is just you on stage alone.” I said, “What did you say? Are you saying that I'm alone on stage for the whole first act?” He goes, “Yes, that is correct.” I thought, “Well, that's a challenge. I have to do that, because I love a challenge.” We worked on it. We had to make it more American, be- cause we had to change some of the English references for our audiences here. That was a great experience. You worked with one of my favorites, Martin Short, on The Goodbye Girl . Do you have any fun memories from working on that project? I loved working with Marty. He just made me laugh, and laugh, and laugh. That was my joy in the show, but the members of the creative team really were not seeing eye-to-eye on that show, so it was difficult. Irving Berlin’s score to Annie Get Your Gun is beyond incredible. Do you have any favorite songs from that score? You know what I love? I really love a little song called “Moonshine Lullaby.” I LOVE that song! I loved that moment with the kids onstage, and it's a very special song. After I did Dames at Sea , I did several television appearances, and I mostly sang Irving Berlin. I just love songs like, “What'll I Do?” His songs are like little scenes. Mandy Patinkin and Bernadette Peters, stars of Sunday in the Park with George. Martha Swope, courtesy Bernadette Peters Also—when working on a song (whether in a show or in concert), I have to find the impetus behind it. For a song like “Some People” (which you mentioned before), there's an engine that drives that character to want to say those things, and I have to find it. I love to reinvent songs and personalize them. I try to make everything as personal as possible. I believe that if I make it personal for myself, it becomes personal for the audience, and then they can connect to it. Of course, your professional and personal relationship with Stephen Sondheim is legendary. Tell me about the first time you met him. I first worked with him on Sunday in the Park with George , and I met him on the first day of rehearsal for that show. He actually sang the score for all of us, and I remember the first number we worked on was “Color and Light,” where Mandy was painting, and I was powdering. I thought, “Oh, my God! I've just died and gone to heaven. This is the most beautiful piece.” I loved it so much. Without giving away too much, what can audiences expect to hear at Barrington Stage at the 30th Anniversary concert? Do you have your set list put together, or is it still in the works? Not totally. I have an array of songs that I sing from that are very personal to me. I want to make sure that we have a lovely arc of music and emotion for the evening of the show, so the audience feels satisfied by the end. Have you spent a lot of time in the Berkshires, and do you have any favorite spots or memories? I had a lovely time with John Williams. He brought me to Tangle-wood to sing with Yo-Yo Ma, Itzhak Perlman, and James Taylor. It was very special. I stayed in a lovely inn, and a herd of deer were outside of my window at dawn. Stockbridge is home to the Norman Rockwell Museum, which not only has Rockwell’s originals, but also has one of the world’s greatest collections of illustration art. You have a special connection to the famed Pinup illustrator Alberto Vargas. He painted the cover to your self-titled album, Bernadette Peters . How did that come about, and do you still have the original Vargas painting? Yes, I do! It's on my living room wall! It’s lovely. He had painted the album cover of The Cars’ Candy-O . It’s an image of a girl lying on a car. That’s where we got the idea for him to do my cover art, and he said he would do it. He was living in L.A., and he hadn't been inspired in a while. He was still mourning the death of his wife, and he hadn't painted in a while. But he painted the cover, and he did a beautiful job. Rick Edwards, courtesy Bernadette Peters We're very much looking forward to seeing you here in August at Barrington Stage, and back on Broadway in Spring 2025 in Stephen Sondheim’s Old Friends . Are there changes happening to the show since it premiered in London? It's pretty much set and being brought over. There might be tiny flip-flopping of a song or something, as far as the order, but it's all pretty much the same. You've had an incredible career, both on stage and screen, but despite your tremendous celebrity, you've also been able to preserve quite a bit of privacy surrounding your personal life. In this age of social media, in which the route to celebrity is often personal sharing, what piece of advice do you have for any up-and-coming performers on how to build a career but still keep an element of privacy? I was lucky, because I got to do it before social media, which I do a little bit, but it's not really my jam. I certainly tweet when I'm going to be appearing somewhere, because it's good for the venue, and it's just good for everyone to know. I can't advise about social media, but I guess I would say, “Don't do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.” I've always been a very private person, and I don't know if I started out in this day and age how much I would have been comfortable revealing. I think you have to do what you're comfortable with. Years ago, you were interviewed on Inside the Actors Studio , and you were asked what you would do if you weren't an actor. You said you couldn't do anything else but act. It’s been a while since that interview. Do you still feel that way, or are there other things that you're enjoying in life right now that you're pursuing, even if it's privately? I'm an animal rescuer, so I'm doing that, plus acting. I actually used to go into the city shelters, take out dogs, and bring them to rescue groups. It's a very beautiful experience, because the animals know. They know when they’re safe. barringtonstageco.org

COURTESY OF JAMES LAPINE (2) From our Fall 2023 Issue Pulitzer Prize-winning multi-hyphenate James Lapine is best known for his collaborations with composers Ste- phen Sondheim ( Sunday in the Park with George, Into The Woods, Passion , etc.) and William Finn ( Falsettos , A New Brain, 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee , etc.) On Saturday, September 9, the three-time Tony Award®-winning Broadway playwright and director will be honored at The Millay Arts 50th Anniversary Gala at Steepletop in Austerlitz, New York. A New Brain  also has been revived at Barrington Stage Company in Pittsfield. The musical continues through Sunday, September 10. When speaking on their continued artistic collaboration, Finn praised Lapine for his integrity and creativity: “Unlike other people, I can always trust him. He’s full of ideas, and I find that very reassuring.” At a point when Lapine’s creative aspirations were beginning to take flight, his stay at the Millay Colony in 1978 played a critical role in his artistic development. Over the past several decades, Lapine has maintained a strong connection with the Berkshires’ theatrical scene, and he continues to find inspiration and enjoyment whenever he comes to visit. We spoke to Lapine about his collaborations, his beginnings as a playwright, and the impact that the time he spent at the Millay Colony in 1978 had on his career. Thanks so much for joining us, James! It’s been 45 years since you were an artist in residence at Millay Arts (formerly The Millay Colony). How did you first hear about the opportunity, and what attracted you to it? A woman who organized one of the very first shows I had done with the Music Theater Performing Group in the Berkshires recommended me. She suggested that I apply, and that’s how I ended up there. Back in my salad days, the idea of a month of free time in the country sounded good to me. Your career has been wide-ranging—from photography to historic restoration and design, to writing and directing. In 1978, when you came to Millay, were you specifically focused on writing? I hadn’t really written anything, but I had been segueing from being a purely visual artist to creating visual theater pieces that involved some writing. It was at the Millay Center that I decided to try my hand at writing. I went off to the Colony without any expectations, but I knew I had a month to do something. It sounds corny, but I literally just sat down at a typewriter and started typing, and that’s how it all began. Can you share any favorite memories from your time at The Millay Colony? Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sister, Norma, lived there, and she was a hoot. There were only five of us in residence that summer, and two of the five were married to each other. Norma would come out first thing in the morning in her nightgown after a shot of whiskey, go into the garden, and spend hours gardening. She was well in her 80s at the time. In the evenings, we would go over to the main house where she lived, and we would drink whiskey together while she recited Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poetry. The experience was pretty magical. It was a pretty funky operation back then—more like a mom-and-pop setup, which was great. I remember it being thrilling to have that opportunity as a young person, and it was wonderful to have someone supporting what I wanted to do creatively. The experience was vital to me. I ended up going to more colonies after that, and I embraced the opportunity to be in such blessed places. The Millay Colony has always been known for serving as a haven of multidisciplinary collaboration. Do you think that having a wide range of artists with different disciplines creates a positive environment for collaboration? Absolutely! I attended the California Institute of the Arts, which, like Millay, brought together artists from various disciplines. When I was at CalArts, I was studying photography, but I was exposed to theater, music, film, and dance. It’s a great gift not to be shoehorned into a specific profession or area of study. When you’re interacting with artists from different fields, it influences your work and provides a rich, extraordinary environment. You’re one of the honorees at Millay’s 50th Anniversary Gala. Looking back, have any lessons or habits that you learned or developed from that time influenced your work moving forward? My experience there played a part in teaching me the value of dedicated time for creativity. It’s important to have days that aren’t filled with other activities, like calls or doctors appointments, where you have time to yourself to create. I didn’t learn how to maintain a strict routine at Millay, but the experience there reminded me to keep seeking out time and space for creative endeavors. I was also grateful to have the opportunity to be fed and housed in a beautiful place, because I love hiking and the outdoors. The Berkshire region is certainly a beautiful and inspiring place. Do you have any other favorite memories or connections to the Berkshires? Bill (William) Finn, who lives in Williamstown and attended Williams College, is a close friend and collaborator of mine. Roberta Bernstein, who got me my first theater opportunity, also resides in the Berk- shires, and she will be attending the event with me. Over time, I have developed connections to the Berkshires. I used to live in Upstate New York near the border, so the Berkshires have been a place I’m drawn to and have connections with. It may not be a constant presence, but it holds a special significance in my life. You wrote part of your breakout play, Table Settings while at Millay. What was the process for putting that together? After working on it at Millay and finishing it after my time there, I cobbled together something that resembled the first draft and sent it to André Bishop. I had met him through Wendy Wasserstein, a playwright and close friend. André agreed to do a little workshop of the play, and that’s how it started to grow. I kept working on it, even though I didn’t have a formal theater education. Unlike many others in the theater who major in it and focus solely on that path, I had various interests and no specific career plan for the theater. Table Settings , in all honesty, was an attempt to write something I thought could bring in some income. My previous works were quite experimental, and I knew they wouldn’t appeal to everyone. I decided to try my hand at writing something commercially viable. At that time, I mainly earned a living through teaching, but I have to admit I was a terrible teacher and didn’t find much enjoyment in it, and I suspect my students felt the same way. You’ve collaborated with both Sondheim and Finn, two legendary Broadway composers. Can you talk about your approach to storytelling and how these collaborations came about? I’m more visually driven, and I find inspiration from visual elements. With Sondheim, the collaboration began with a painting by Seurat, which fascinated me. We started talking about the painting, and we realized that the image held exciting potential. I told him, “Art is about the artist,” and it became clear that it wasn’t about the painting as much as the painter. Those discussions sparked the idea for Sunday in the Park with George . Music, for me, is a visual art, so musicals allow me to merge the visual and the verbal in storytelling. Bill Finn and I both got our start at James Lapine & Playwrights Horizons. It was a special time. We were young, and we had nothing to lose. We were lucky to be in a little theater that André Bishop was involved in, and he has now gone on to run Lincoln Center. It was a magical time for us. James Lapine & William Finn from Falsettos’ national tour. What is your approach to building a collaborative environment? Collaboration is like a marriage. It really depends on who you’re working with, and there’s bound to be a lot of back-and-forth. It requires mutual inspiration and respect, but it’s essential that there’s a central figure driving the project forward with a strong vision. Whether it’s the producer, the director, or the writer, the writing itself holds the key in the theater world. My two major partners, Bill and Steve, serve as both composers and lyricists, so I’ve been fortunate that it was just two of us in a room. It’s not common to find writer-directors like myself, but that allowed me to wear two hats and explore a unique artistic relationship with Sondheim and Finn, who also wore multiple hats as composers and lyricists. What do you do when you encounter roadblocks or obstacles in the collaborative process? The most important thing in a collaboration is that you inspire each other. You don’t want to dictate to somebody what to do. You want to find people who come to you with the same kind of richness of ideas and thoughts about what you’re doing so that they can bring another point of view to it. At the beginning of any project, rather than give people what my sense of inspiration is, I just give them a piece of writing and ask what they get from it. It helps to open up a discussion and broaden the point of view, which I think is the goal. What’s next? I’m currently working on a memoir with plays and librettos, reflecting on my creative journey. Also, I’m directing a musical based on the Nancy Drew books, and there are a couple of documentaries in the works. I also like to mix it up and keep the visual side of my artistic process alive by taking photographs regularly. barringtonstageco.org millayarts.org —Dr. Joshua Sherman and Benjamin Lerner

Photos By George Holz, courtesy of Suzanne Vega FALL 2024 Get ready for an enchanting musical journey as the legendary Suzanne Vega takes center stage at the picturesque Mahaiwe Performing Arts Center on Saturday, October 5, at 8 p.m. This American singer-songwriter, whose melodic journey has captivated audiences for nearly four decades, is set to serenade the Berkshires with her folk-inspired tunes. Remember those catchy ‘80s and ‘90s hits that had you humming along? Vega is the mastermind behind songs like “Marlene on the Wall” and the hauntingly beautiful “Luka,” and her a cappella tune “Tom’s Diner” really put her on the map. This song not only topped charts when remixed as a dance track, but also played a surprising role in tech history—it was used to fine-tune the MP3 format! Talk about a claim to fame; Vega is now affectionately known as “The Mother of the MP3”! Vega spoke with me about her evolving approach to songwriting and musical exploration, her experiences with various recording technologies, her views on the music industry’s changes, and her literary influences. We’re so excited to welcome you to the Berkshires in October! You’ve performed in Western Massachusetts a few times—what do you like about the Berkshires? My daughter went to Williams College, and I’ve always enjoyed my trips to the Berkshires. My husband and I have taken many long, beautiful trips out there, and we’re really looking forward to coming back. And it’s so exciting to be doing new material again. Your tour is titled “Old Songs, New Songs, and Other Songs.” Can you elaborate on what fans can expect from this intriguing mix? Are there any surprises or lesser-known tracks you’re particularly excited to showcase alongside your classics? We’ve been on tour in Europe this summer, and I’m not sure whether we’ll stick with the ones we’ve been doing now, or whether we’ll have even newer songs by the time we get to the Berkshires, but there’s a section for brand-new stuff. I also do some deep cuts—we do “Penitent” from Songs in Red and Gray, and “Left of Center.” And we do a newish song called “I Never Wear White.” And then that all ramps up to “Luka” and “Tom’s Diner.” How do you approach songwriting differently now compared to earlier in your career? I think at this stage of the game, I’ve written songs every way it’s possible to write them. I’ve written songs that have lyrics first; I’ve written songs with the melody first. I’ve had songs that had the title first, or just an image or a vision of something. I’ve had songs where other people write the bridges, and I’ve had songs where people write all the music. I’ll take the inspiration however it comes, and I do whatever I have to do to get that song to straighten up and fly right. You’ve explored various musical styles throughout your career. Are there any genres or musical traditions you’d like to experiment with in the future? Well, interestingly, I have a new song that’s kind of a soul music song. It’s something that could have been written in the 1970s. I listened to a lot of the soul stations growing up. Even now, there’s a station in Newark, New Jersey—WBGO—and on the weekends, they play all these Motown type songs. I have a new song that I’ve written called “Love Thief” that has a sort of a R&B feel to it, which a lot of people seem surprised by. That’s kind of thrilling to me because I grew up listening to and loving music by Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield—that whole genre. This is a side of my personality that people may not know, and this will be on my new album we’re hoping will come out in April of next year. I heard that you experimented with an early recording technology called the Edison Wax Cylinder, which was the first popular format for music distribution from the late-19th century. As someone whose song “Tom’s Diner” was used in developing the MP3 format, what are your thoughts on being part of both the earliest and one of the most recent chapters of audio recording history? That’s very funny. It was fascinating working with the wax cylinder because when I heard “Tom’s Diner” through that medium, it sounded old, like it was a song from the 1920s. There’s something about the melody of that song—it is so simple and it sounds like it could have been a melody from any time. The medium of the wax cylinder made it sound old and old timey, which I loved. It came out with a little bit of a hit of the needle and then a kind of slightly warbly sound. It sounded like those old recordings. I just thought it was fascinating. I felt like I was listening to myself back in what might have been 1910, like it was part of the spirit of the age. When they were working with my voice on developing the MP3, I was completely unaware of it. But the inventors at the Fraunhofer Institute in Germany invited me to go there, and when they played my voice before they refined it, to my ears, my voice sounded like Linda Blair in The Exorcist! What changes in the industry have you found most challenging or exciting over the course of all those years? Well, interestingly, what is the most challenging is also the most exciting. I really liked my career in the very beginning. I was very successful right from the start, and my first five years in the industry were my most successful. From the ages of 25 to 30, I sold millions of albums, which I have to say I liked. But that also came with a sense of responsibility. It also came with the knowledge that, at some point, that honeymoon would be over, and I would probably be dropped. This did happen, of course, but it happened much later, and I was on the A&M label for 18 years. So we had a good, long, healthy relationship. When I was dropped, I began to worry. But then I found that having my own record label is really great. I followed in the footsteps of Aimee Mann and Ani DiFranco, who had their own record labels, and now I’ve got mine and I can do what I want and I find that I am, in fact, making money from that, which is just a very good feeling. What’s your label called? It’s called Amanuensis Productions. That’s an interesting name! I’ve read that you incorporated the letters “A” and “M” intentionally as a play on your previous relationship with A&M. Is that true? Not at all. In fact, it hadn’t even occurred to me until you just said it! I guess you’re right. It does have “A” and “M” right in the front. But it was a play on words: Amanuensis is a servant who is a scribe who takes dictation. And I was thinking that, at my best when I’m writing songs, I feel that I’m kind of writing down things that come through me, you know, as though I’m the servant. And the other thing is that now because I have my own record label, I get to own the master recordings, which is what we call the recorded finished product. So my little slogan is “Amanuensis: where the servant owns the master.” That was my little joke. And now you’ve made it even better; that’s brilliant! Totally unconscious. You’ve collaborated with many artists over the years, and I’m curious if there’s a dream collaboration that you’d like to realize someday? I was friends with Danger Mouse for a while, and he makes very interesting productions. So I don’t know if he would be up for that kind of thing, but I would. I’d also like to work with Anderson.Paak. I’m a big fan of his work, and I like Silk Sonic, which is his work with Bruno Mars. I actually approached them to see if they would like to think about doing something with me on my new work, but I haven’t heard back yet. In the age of streaming and playlists, how do you feel about the concept of albums? Do you still approach creating an album as a cohesive work? I think I’ll always make albums, and it isn’t even so much that I approach it that way first. I just think that if you work on a group of songs at one period in time, you’re going to have themes that will draw it all together. Therefore, why not make an album because it’s going to tell a story anyway? I like making albums. I know that some people don’t sit and listen to the whole thing, but at least they exist in the ether, and even on the streaming services, you can listen to a whole album. You don’t have to own the physical copy, but at least it exists in concept, and that is meaningful to me. Your music often features vivid storytelling. Are there any authors or literary works that have particularly influenced your lyrical style? I’d like to think so. I’ve always loved James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, partly because he does it in a third person. I like that little bit of distance that he puts in the narrative. The other person I think of right away is Sylvia Plath because of how she used the sounds of her words as well as the meaning of the words. That was a big revelation to me when I first started reading her work, the daringness of the subject matter and then also the way she organized the consonants and the vowels. It was like magic to me, like I was listening to a kind of verbal percussion which I just found really powerful. You’ve explored a variety of mediums beyond music, including playwriting. Are there other art forms you’d like to explore in the future? I suppose I would like to work with more visuals. I’d love to play around more with painting. I did a bit of that in the 1990s, and I’d like to go back to exploring color and line. My brother and sister are both artists, and I love their work. I’ve learned so much over the years from them, and I’ve gotten a feel for how to understand what they are wrestling with in terms of form and emotion. My sister works in fiber art, and my brother works with giant canvases. It’s like part of the dialogue of our family. I’m curious what advice you might give to younger singer songwriters who are just starting out. My advice would be to really figure out what you have to say that’s different from other people. If you write something and it seems vaguely familiar, then write something else. That goes for developing your own style of dress and your image, how you want to look, and what your sound is. Another thing: just keep going. If you find a closed door, don’t stand around in front of it hoping it will open up. Go somewhere else where they love you and go from there. Oh, and one more thing—get a good lawyer and don’t sign anything without that lawyer looking over everything. Great advice! Thanks so much for your time, and we can’t wait to see you at the Mahaiwe on October 5! This performance promises to be an unforgettable evening of music and memories. —Samantha Anderson

SHERVIN LAINEZ, COURTESY OF ANI DIFRANCO Ani DiFranco is deep into Unprecedented Sh!t: The Tour, which will make a stop at MASS MoCA this spring. It might be a few years since she’s been on tour, but DiFranco has not slowed down. Last year, she did a six-month run on Broadway as Persephone in Hadestown . She released her 23rd album in May and is the subject of a new documentary, 1-800-ON-HER-OWN , which is on a lengthy city-by-city tour intentionally mirroring the early DiFranco DIY tours. (The movie will be shown at Images Cinema in Williamstown on April 16.) Over the years, DiFranco also has released a collection of poems, a memoir, and two children’s books. She will be in North Adams on April 25, performing with special guest Wryn on MASS MoCA’s Hunter Center stage to a sell-out audience. From her home studio in New Orleans, the “Little Folksinger” talks about her latest album, Unprecedented Sh!t , as well as her solo move at age 18 from Buffalo to New York City, the impact of technology on young people, her take on Broadway, her fans, feminism, and being self-critical. She also lets us in on her latest work in progress. We are looking forward to having you at MASS MoCA, Ani. When you’re on tour, do you explore the city where you’re playing? We don’t have a lot of days off, but whenever we do, then I have time to wander around and check a place out. On show days, I’m pretty ensconced with interviews and setlists. Making a setlist takes me a weirdly long amount of time, just trying to figure out what the flow is going to be like. I’m usually in the venue most of the day. Your setlists vary depending on the venue? Yes, definitely. A rock club will be more rock and roll, and then in a seated theater, I can bring out the chill stuff. This spring is the first time I’ll be touring with my latest album, Unprecedented Sh!t . I haven't played any of those songs live. I listened to the album again last night and really enjoy it. I'll ask you about that a little later. We have daughters who are a similar age, 17. How do you think your daughter’s life is different than when you were that age? I guess the biggest difference is the smartphone. She's growing up in a whole other way, in a whole other world than those of us who were pre-internet creatures. I feel very grateful to have known the world before that. It sort of contracted from three-plus dimensions to two. She has her own world there in her headphones and with her phone and TikTok, which is typical of this generation of kids. I feel like these devices—having the world in your pocket—is expansive in some ways because you certainly are aware of much more than maybe we were at 17 just entering the world. But I feel it's also a deterrent to actually going out there and striking your own path in the world. It’s an intimidating amount of information. Anything that a young person could think to do, they can pull their phone out of their pocket and see somebody who's doing it better than anyone ever has. And I feel like that makes kids feel like, well, why would I bother? I can't be that pretty or that good a dancer or that smart of a designer or whatever it is. I feel like it's almost a repressive force. That’s just coming from my mother's instinct. It seems like a lot of young adults seem wary to leave the house and go try to do something. What stands out most when you were 18 and on your own in New York City? New York was so different back then, in 1989, when I moved there. It was much rougher around the edges, more dangerous and edgy, but really fascinating, really vibrant. With money comes cleanliness and safety and convenience and all those things, but it also dulls down the spirit of a place. I'm also happy that I'm old enough to have known the old New York, where there were found sculptures everywhere and still chickens running around the Lower East Side, squats and artists and a less shiny and moneyed and rat race-feeling city. It was rough. Even though I grew up in the city in Buffalo, landing in New York at 18 was daunting. I had a sublet for two months, and I didn't know a soul. I had to get work. I had to figure it out real quick. I remember I cried a lot. It felt cold to me at first, but I was determined. I acclimated, and, of course, I fell in love with it. I would live again in New York in a heartbeat.  What would you tell your younger self? I would mostly petition her to be more patient, to take more time doing everything. I was very driven and very determined. For whatever reason, I was flinging albums into the world twice a year, just churning out songs and throwing them against the wall and seeing what stuck. I would advise her to take more time—there’s no hurry—and even step back from making music, from making albums, from being on stage more than I did. I think it would have served me and my art, and in that sense, my audience, for me to remove myself and rebuild myself and regenerate my own cells more than I did. Your kids must think you're so cool. I guess I'm doing okay in that regard. They're not mortally ashamed or embarrassed of me. It's amazing how little relevance the culture of one's parents has to their culture and their world. When I joined the Broadway show, I went up a notch with my daughter. She got to experience New York and see her mom on stage, so I can understand why. Did you grow up wanting to be a musician? Yes, when I was nine, I started playing guitar, and right away it was the best medicine I'd ever had. It was the most healing thing to sing and to play guitar and to make music. Instantly, I wanted to do it and not stop. I didn't have a big plan for myself. I just knew that this was the best thing I found in terms of making art for me. SHERVIN LAINEZ, COURTESY OF ANI DIFRANCO What did you listen to growing up? A lot of folk singers, so to speak. singer-songwriters of the ’70s, ’80s; I was fortunate to have a lot of them live and in person in my life. How did that come about? When I was just a kid starting to play guitar, I made friends with this fellow in Buffalo, Michael Meldrum. He was a singer-songwriter, a troubadour playing in all the bars and running the open mics. I became his shadow. Another thing that he was doing was booking concerts. He had what he called the Greenwich Village Song Project, and he would bring songwriters in from the city. So, I met and hung out with a lot of them. I saw all of them play. The model for music was something you do. He and I would sit around and sing and learn songs and play together, and I would play with him at all his little shows. Growing up, it was more of a social act, which, I think, is the genesis of music and what it really is. So, I had a good, long beginning of the essence of what music is. Did your singing come at the same time as guitar playing? Yeah, it was sort of about singing songs. I had the Beatles complete songbook, and I learned every Beatles song. When I was about 14, I started writing my own songs. I was surrounded by people who were writing songs, so I joined in. You were on Broadway last year for a six-month stretch of the multi-Tony Award®- and Grammy® Award-winning Hadestown . You first sang the role of Persephone in Anaïs Mitchell’s 2010 concept album that was released on your independent label, Righteous Babe Records. How did it feel to play that role on stage? Is Broadway something you’d do again? It is totally something I would do again. It was really amazing in many, many ways, starting with being a part of something very big. I'm used to doing my own shows, and it’s all about my songs. I might have a few musicians playing with me, I might have a band, but this was much bigger than me. It was an amazing feeling on a very deeply monkey level, to be a part of a tribe. It was this amazing tribe of incredibly talented, spirited, super-wonderful, inspiring people. In that sense, it was one of the most gratifying experiences of my life. It felt like a really different type of performing. To break it down in a simple way, when you're on stage, there are two elements: One is interaction, where you're exchanging energy, or maybe even words; you're talking with the audience. Maybe they're talking back. You're relating to each other. The other aspect is putting on a show. You’re the show, and somebody is more passively watching. The Broadway thing was leaning very heavily into the latter. It was a big learning curve for me. When I do my thing, I lean very heavily into the interaction—I walk out on stage, I smell the air, I look at the people, I catch a vibe, and I go with that. I interact. That was a mistake on Broadway. I had to unlearn that instinct of mine. On a Wednesday matinee or a Tuesday night, if the audience is dead and the vibe is real sedate, that doesn't matter. You put on the damn show. You don't respond to the energy of the room; you command it. You come out swinging, no matter if it's Tuesday or Saturday night. You hit the same notes, metaphorically speaking. You get to that same pinnacle no matter what's happening in the room. And you enjoyed that? Yes, I enjoyed the challenge of it. I did the show for six months, and on the last night that I performed it, I was still improving. I was still learning. I was learning the whole time and getting better the whole time. That was exciting. Another really, really interesting aspect of it to me was the acting part of it. Playing a character that was not me—even when I'm singing—the whole embodying of a character, I found that really interesting and challenging. I would definitely do it again. Your memoir, No Walls and the Recurring Dream , covers how you rejected the mainstream recording industry and created your own label. How did you come up with that name? It was originally Righteous Records. When I was 18, 19, 20, when I started making recordings, I was very political. I was this very anti-capitalist, anti-patriarchy, rebel kid. So it was Righteous Records. Then I learned when we went to incorporate the name that there was Righteous Records in Oklahoma, gospel music. They did not take kindly to me sharing their name, so I had to change it. I was a young woman navigating the world alone, living in New York. The “babe” I threw in there, well, for legal reasons so this gospel music label in Oklahoma wouldn’t sue. And because that was sort of my ironic, “hey, babe” world that young women live in, where you're always under the male gaze. A friend of mine and I used to call each other “babe” as sort of a joke, taking the power of it into our own hands, taking back the word and sort of poking fun at the patriarchy amongst ourselves. That is what I chose to throw in there. In retrospect, I'm very grateful to the gospel music label, because I think it's a cooler name. It says more. Who are some of the younger artists you admire? In terms of leading this new generation, Billie Eilish is an amazing singer and changing the game in a radical way that I was sort of involved in back in my day, in changing the game for people. This young woman makes her records with her brother, a partnership of siblings that made their number one world-selling albums in their bedroom with only their own spleens and visions to guide them. They’re not industry creations. That’s really radical that they pulled that off, and amazing. Then there's all these other aspects to her rebellion of “I'm not going to let you use my body to sell my music,” all of those subtle but radical moves. I'm really impressed by her and hopefully more and more young people who are trying to thwart the system. There's just a lot of different ways to do it and stay empowered and stay authentic.  I've interviewed feminist icons like you—Gloria Steinem, Emily Saliers, Rachel Maddow, Rosanne Cash, Rita Dove, and others. Are you uncomfortable being referred to as that? The icon piece, whatever, that's for other people to decide. I have always called myself a feminist. You can look it up in the dictionary. It’s the belief that women should have rights and opportunities equal to men. It's simple. The cultural reality, which I've lived through plenty of years, is where feminism is a dirty word. Young women are trying to run away from it. It's very indicative of something that runs very deep, when the one word in the English language that means women have rights and opportunities equal to men is a taboo word that even women don't want to identify with. Somebody has created that cultural impression around that word, and a lot of people have bought into it. So, I'm really thrilled with any young woman, like a Beyoncé with “FEMINIST” written behind her on stage. This is not a dirty word. This is actually the path to peace on earth. So, let's be real. Why doesn't everyone identify as feminist who believes in this very basic concept? That should be a question more often asked.  Are the terms “social activist” and “musician” intertwined? For sure. I've been asked for so many years about the relationship between art and activism. Even thinking about it as separate things in a relationship feels a little off. To me, it’s one thing. It's a motivation to connect with people. It's a motivation to uplift people. It's a motivation to be free and for everybody around me to be free.  How has your audience changed? Or has it? I've been out there for 30 years or more. A lot of people have been on the ride with me the whole time or for a long time, which is super deep, to have an ongoing, long-term relationship with listeners. I have an experience a lot these days where, if I see somebody on the street or in a restaurant who comes up to me, what I often hear is, “Man, you have accompanied me in all these phases of my life.” Some of the people got off the boat somewhere, and they come up to me and say, “Whoa, you got me through high school.” But a lot of other people say, “Wow, you hit your Saturn return. I hit my Saturn return. You found love. I found love. You became a mother. I became a mother.” This is my favorite part about writing songs, feeling less alone, connecting with other people and hearing, “Yeah, me, too.” That's a really deep, warm feeling now when I get out there and perform. Also exciting is seeing some younger people down front, to see a next generation of radical political feminist creatures who hopefully will go out there and change whatever this new game is.  Well, you're definitely inspiring them. I hope so. That's my biggest joy is to set somebody a light within themselves.  Your 23rd album, your latest, is quite different than what you've created in the past. I’ve read that you wanted to work with someone who knows about emulating the world of machines. BJ Burton is the person that you connected with. What is it about him that you felt was compatible with you? He's a person who has this amazing discography of records that are not centered around recording bands playing their instruments necessarily. It’s about creating soundscapes in a studio. We took a chance on each other. I was like, okay, here's a dude that's up to the shenanigans that I'm interested in exploring and never have. So, I sent him a few demos, and they piqued his interest. I recorded some basic stuff, and then he turned it into way different stuff. The sounds generally are just manipulations of some very organic, basic materials, which I find fascinating. How is that going to work on tour? I don't know. We shall see. I’m gonna get together with my band. I feel like I haven't been on tour in a thousand years, so it all feels new. We’re going to figure out how to represent these songs live for the first time with our instruments. I’m not going to play tracks or simulate all the sounds on the record. I’m just going to interpret the songs live, musicians interacting, and see what that sounds like. It'll be different from the record. And why not? A song is a song. I went online trying to find where I can watch the movie 1-800-ON-HER-OWN , and it can’t be streamed yet, right? Thanks for looking. It’s still going around to independent theaters and art houses. In the spring, it should go to some streaming platform. How do you feel about having a documentary about you? Well, I feel really good about it in that I actually haven't watched it. That would make me feel all sorts of other things. It’s been working out really well to not watch it myself and get into that inward spiral of “Oh, God, why don't I do more things to look better in any given moment?” I didn't do anything different because there was a camera around. I couldn’t bring myself to. It’s very honest, it's very raw, and it's very much the director Dana Flor’s creation. I didn't tell her anything, really. I saw an earlier version, and I gave a couple of notes, basically protecting not my own privacy, but the privacy of others in my life. That was about it. We've done Q/As for a bunch of screenings, and I’ve been there, and I’ve talked to a lot of people who have seen it, and they overwhelmingly really enjoyed it and felt inspired. So I'm not sure what Dana created, but it seems like it's inspirational to people, and that's all I could hope for. That’s why I chose to work with her, too, because I knew that about her. I don't see you as not wanting to watch yourself. I'm very insistent on being myself and being free. To be honest, I am not free of my own self-loathing yet. It's my life's work, really. I can't listen to my own recordings. I can't watch myself on film. So, I still have work to do. That’s part of what has driven me to make music and to make songs and to heal myself with music. The epicenter of the motivation is to heal and to be okay with myself and my life and figure out my path. Then the fact that when you do that, that can transfer to other people, and other people can heal through it, too, is a bonus. But, I think, in the beginning, what I'm trying to do is get there myself. You have two children's book and a memoir, the tour coming up, the movie, the Broadway show. What’s on the horizon? There's a project that I'm really excited about, but I probably shouldn't talk about it just yet, because I'm not even officially hired. I've been writing on spec; I’ve been working on a TV show based on a book, and I really hope it comes into being. I’m sort of living and breathing and dreaming that project right now, but it's all, you know, TBD. That’s what I’ve got on the backburner. It’s a new context to use my creativity. We’re really looking forward to you returning to the Berkshires. You’ve been here at least a few times before. Yes, and I have a very dear old friend who lives in Williamstown, artist Laylah Ali. I’m gonna hit her up. I’m really excited to be in that part of the woods.  —Anastasia Stanmeyer

Few artists have had as profound an impact on the world of classical vocal music as Dawn Upshaw. A MacArthur Genius Fellow and five-time Grammy® Award winner, Upshaw has captivated audiences for decades with her exquisite voice, deep musical intelligence, and unwavering commitment to meaningful storytelling. From her celebrated performances at the Metropolitan Opera to her trailblazing collaborations with contemporary composers like Osvaldo Golijov and Maria Schneider, Upshaw has consistently pushed the boundaries of classical vocal performance. Her artistry has been equally at home in the world’s great opera houses and concert halls as it has been in intimate recital settings, where her meticulous attention to text and nuance has made her one of the most revered interpreters of both traditional and modern repertoire.  Beyond her achievements as a performer, Upshaw has dedicated herself to nurturing the next generation of vocal artists. As the director of the Tanglewood Music Center (TMC) Vocal Arts Program, she leads one of the most prestigious training grounds for young singers, helping them refine their technique, deepen their artistic expression, and prepare for the demands of a professional career. The TMC Vocal Fellows, a select group of exceptionally talented young singers, spend their summer immersed in an intensive program of masterclasses, workshops, and performances that span everything from Renaissance polyphony to contemporary world premieres. Under Upshaw’s leadership, the program not only hones technical and interpretative skills but also encourages artists to engage deeply with the meaning behind the music they perform.  The 2025 Tanglewood season promises to be particularly intriguing, with a notable highlight being the celebration of the 150th anniversary of Maurice Ravel’s birth. This will include a concert performance of Ravel’s L’enfant et les sortilèges , an imaginative and whimsical one-act opera that showcases the composer’s dazzling orchestration and deep sensitivity to the human voice. The production will feature the TMC Vocal Fellows, with conducting fellows leading the Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra.  With a career spanning opera, recital, and new music, Upshaw is uniquely positioned to guide these young singers, encouraging them to bring both technical mastery and emotional depth to their performances. In this conversation, she reflects on her journey, her passion for teaching, her collaborations with living composers, and the enduring magic of Ravel’s music, as well as her recent decision to step away from live performance to focus on mentorship. I’m a longtime fan, introduced to your work by my father. When I mentioned to my Dad that you and I would be chatting, he told me his favorite recorded track of yours is The Sea-gull and the Ea-gull . I actually discovered a little gem on YouTube of you rehearsing that song—and in that video, you commented that you actually love being in the recording studio, because it feels more like the rehearsal room—more intimate—as opposed to large performance halls. Is that still true? Definitely. They are two different animals, right? They're not mutually exclusive. My sense of space is always different depending on where I'm singing. On stage, the experience is a little more spontaneous, and there’s no returning, no going back and repeating something. I actually enjoy taking smaller steps in the recording studio and repeating things, getting in as deeply as possible. I love performing live as well, but the moment becomes more about understanding my relationship to any given audience. But—and I've said this many times about preparing pieces—the work involved in getting inside the piece and the process itself is most interesting to me, in addition to the collaborative work that I do with my colleagues.  Given your love of the recording studio, do you train the TMC Fellows on how to “work the mic?” We don't really do much of that, to be honest. Most of them are grad school age or maybe post-grad. And I have to say, this generation—and even the last generation—it’s a different world for them than it was for me. They record themselves all the time as a means of demonstrating who they are as musicians. In auditions today, often you first have to send a video recording of yourself. I certainly never prepared a video recording for a job. It’s a common skill these days that they must know.  You were a MacArthur “genius grant” fellow in 2007, the first vocal artist to receive that prize. It’s a huge recognition. What was that experience like for you, and how did that honor—and funding—enable you to grow as an artist? It was a really amazing surprise. I’m still kind of shocked by it, to be honest, but it was a wonderful pat on the back and truly inspirational. It allowed me to commission a few pieces and to travel with a piece on tour that would have been too costly for me to handle myself. Most important was the sense that I was being heard, and that my connection—what I wanted to say through my singing—was being understood. You were also a vocal fellow at Tanglewood yourself! How did that experience shape your artistic path? I came into singing classical music unexpectedly. My family’s musical upbringing, which was during the 1960s and early ’70s, was listening to a lot of protest songs from the civil rights movement—Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, etc. They made music that was meant to be so powerful as to persuade, change, or surprise. Maybe even to bring to the surface some truth that wasn't apparent in other ways, and in a peaceful way. When I went to college, I had also become interested in musical theater. When I first came to Tanglewood, I was really moved and impressed by Phyllis Curtin, who was such a strong and brilliant human being with the kind of conviction that I saw about her own artistic self that I was able to relate to, given my early musical upbringing. Being in that setting and really appreciating the history, the meaning, and the power of classical music—it was just a perfect place for me to build real confidence in my choice of following this path.  You mentioned Phyllis Curtin, who lived in Great Barrington. Who are some of your other mentors, both professionally and personally? Certainly, I would say mezzo-soprano Jan DeGaetani. She taught alongside Adele Addison at the Aspen Music School, and I was in Aspen for three summers before I went to Tanglewood. My last summer, I worked with Jan and with Adele in the Vocal Chamber Music program, which they no longer have, sadly. At the time, Jan was still performing, and Adele was only teaching. I really count both of them as great inspirations in terms of working with living music, especially in terms of working with living composers and understanding the music of my own time—what it was attempting to say, how I might engage with it myself, and how I might create relationships with composers. I continued to take lessons periodically with Jan. She taught at Eastman, and I really became eager to make contemporary music and chamber music a priority for me. I got a little swayed—happily so—for a while, when I was invited to audition at the Met for their young artist program. I had thought that I didn't want to sing opera, but my voice teacher at the time, Ellen Faull—another wonderful mentor—encouraged me to take that audition, and that, of course, was huge for me. Really eye-opening. I began feeling like, “Oh my gosh, opera is, in a way, the highest art form when all the elements are working well together.” Maybe it doesn't happen all the time, but when it does happen, it's pretty amazing. Another mentor for me was James Levine, whom I met and began working with through that young artist program.  You’ve been very intentional in your decision to work with living composers. How does working directly with the composer influence your approach to a piece? I always hope that I approach both the same way, with the same process. Whether it's a brand-new piece or a very old piece, I find it incredibly interesting to understand—if I can really get to that point—what the composer was trying to say, and what they wanted to express. I always ask myself, “Why is this piece meaningful? Why does it matter today?” That is more interesting to me than repeating pieces that have been done thousands or even millions of times. Does that go back to your roots of loving music for social change? That’s a nice way of putting it. I think that’s probably true. I don’t see the point really, for myself, in singing something just for the sake of making a beautiful sound. Some people do. Some people want to go to a concert and just hear beautiful music, and that’s plenty for them. And musicians train in order to achieve that. But even as I choose music for the fellows at Tanglewood, I try to consider what they’ve been exploring, their repertoire lists, what interests them in a given moment. If I feel like there’s a gap—something they haven’t explored yet—I might suggest something outside their typical work. Maybe a different style, period, or language. I always want them to engage with contemporary music at Tanglewood. Certainly, we repeat masterpieces. For example, we’re looking forward to presenting a concert performance of Ravel’s L’enfant et les sortilèges, which is a magical piece. This year marks the 150th anniversary of Ravel’s birth, as well as the 100th anniversary of the opera’s first performance. It’s such a creative and colorful work in every aspect: music, orchestration, and characterization. The piece is filled with curiosity and hope, and I think those qualities are so needed in the world right now. That leads perfectly into my next question. What do you think is Ravel’s influence on modern vocal music, and why celebrate Ravel at 150? He absorbed so much from the world around him: the music of his time, different styles, jazz, even elements of the American Songbook—there’s Gershwin in there, too. And yet, he found a voice that was entirely his own. With the colors and the harmonies, what he created was new and fresh, and it remains so. I’ve always loved Ravel’s music.  You were once a fellow—and now you are the director of the TMC Vocal Arts program. What does it feel like to be in this chapter and this moment at Tanglewood? It’s extraordinary. Tanglewood is a place where so many musicians have discovered themselves—where they’ve figured out who they are artistically. That was certainly true for me. My early years at Tanglewood, first as a fellow and then as a performer, were transformative. People talk about the magic of the place and its beauty, and for young musicians, it’s truly mind-blowing. So many will say that Tanglewood was where they really came into their own. I feel honored and so fortunate to count myself among those people. And I continue to need Tanglewood’s refreshment every summer. It has never failed to do that for me—primarily through the young people I work with, but also through all the incredible concerts and performances happening around me. Looking beyond this season, are there any other dream projects or new directions that you'd love to explore, either personally or with Tanglewood? Actually, I’m enjoying working with young musicians more than anything. And I didn’t announce this yet, but I sang my last performance this past May. I planned it and just decided not to make a big deal about it, but it was a very good decision for me. I really thought it was time to focus on working with young musicians. It’s an exciting moment.  —Dr. Joshua Sherman Monday, August 4, 6 p.m., Pre-Concert Talk: Ravel and Colette’s L’Enfant et les sortilèges , Robert Kirzinger, BSO Director of Program Publications; Dawn Upshaw, TMC Head of the Vocal Arts, Seiji Ozawa Hall. Monday, August 4, 8 p.m., L’Enfant et les sortilèges , Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra, TMC Conducting Fellows,TMC Vocal Fellows. bso.org/tanglewood

THE BSO’S CEO SPEAKS ON TANGLEWOOD, BOSTON, AND THE BERKSHIRES Spring 2026 Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue. When Chad Smith was chosen as the new CEO of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (BSO) in 2023, his return to Massachusetts was both a professional milestone and a cultural homecoming. After earning his undergraduate degree in European History at Tufts University and proving his artistic acumen at New England Conservatory's graduate vocal performance program, Smith spent more than two decades at the Los Angeles Philharmonic, ultimately serving as CEO after rising through six roles. Smith now serves as President and CEO of the BSO. Along with the BSO, he oversees the Boston Pops and Tanglewood with the perspective of a conservatory-trained musician and a seasoned institutional leader. As of last year, that leadership role now extends beyond the walls of Symphony Hall and the Shed: Smith has also played a pivotal role in strengthening regional collaboration through the Berkshire Arts and Culture Alliance (BACA), a coalition of ten major Berkshire cultural organizations formed to advocate for shared economic and infrastructure priorities. While speaking with Berkshire Magazine , Smith reflected on his return to Boston, the intensity and magic of Tanglewood, and the long-term vision of welcoming new generations into the evolving world of music. BSO CEO/Director Chad Smith (Kayana Symczak) Chad, how does it feel to be back in Boston and the Berkshires? I was born and raised in Pennsylvania—but I feel like I’m an adopted Bostonian. When I finished high school in Gettysburg and moved to Boston to go to Tufts and New England Conservatory, I felt like I had found my place, and I fell in love with the city. Boston is not only one of the cradles of liberty and of American history, but it has such a remarkable cultural and intellectual community. My eyes and ears were totally opened. I remember the first time I walked across the street to go to Symphony Hall and heard the Boston Symphony play. Seiji Ozawa was music director at that point. It imprinted on me in a pretty important way. The Boston Symphony became the sound of an orchestra for me, and Symphony Hall was what a hall was supposed to look like—and I carried that with me. I moved away for work, first to Miami, working for a small orchestra there, and then to the Los Angeles Philharmonic, where I was for 22 years. I had six different jobs over the course of 22 years, the last being CEO. It was a way for me to see how transformation within an organization happens, how leadership drives that transformation, and how mission- and arts-focused work is so broadly impactful. When the opportunity to become CEO of the BSO presented itself, something in me resonated. My partner and I had been in LA for a long time, and while it was my home, there was something powerful about the opportunity of running the Boston Symphony, and running it at this time. So, we picked up and moved here. Boston is familiar—the streets, the architecture—but the city has changed. The academic community has changed, the research community is vibrant, the BSO has changed, and its relationship with the city has changed. For me, it’s like reading a novel after 20 years. It’s the same words, but its meaning is different. When I walked onto the campus at Tanglewood for the first time, it was a strange feeling, because the last time I had really spent a summer there, I was a student—performing on the Ozawa stage, doing recitals, singing contemporary works. To come back and be running this institution with so much history, but with a real eye to the future— for me, it was homecoming, certainly, but also a powerful sense of possibility. You mentioned that you were excited about coming to Boston “at this time.” What was so exciting about this moment for Boston and Tanglewood, and how does it influence your goals for your tenure? This is a moment where major legacy arts institutions like the Boston Symphony and Tanglewood have this opportunity to engage very different expectations. There’s a desire within this community for our organization to serve deeply, but also serve differently: connect with the intellectual community, connect with the academic community, connect with other cultural institutions, and think about how institutions can do something that they can’t do alone. That’s what excites me: How does the BSO fit into this community of organizations and institutions? Because this is Berkshire Magazine , can you compare your understanding of Tanglewood as a student with your understanding of Tanglewood now, in this role? There’s always been this phrase, “It’s summer camp for the BSO.” But for me, my ten weeks of running the Tanglewood Festival each year is the busiest ten weeks that I have in my calendar. It is extraordinary, because we are giving 30 to 40 concerts per week. Our campus is a totalof 400 acres. We have tens of thousands of people who are coming onto our campus every weekend. Those are people that I am meeting as donors. Those are people I’m meeting as artists. In my role as CEO, I spend a lot of time in artist development and artist engagement, but I’m also with boards and trustees. Everybody in my industry loves coming to Tanglewood in the summer. Other arts leaders and philanthropists come to Tanglewood because it is such a special place. So, my ten weeks are exhausting and awesome. But luckily, my partner and I have a house on the campus. I always joke it’s a little bit like a parish house. The good news is I can roll out of bed and be at a meeting in ten minutes, driving my little golf cart. The bad news? I’m always on. But I love the summer in the Berkshires. And my partner and I always try to spend one or two weeks in September after the season just being in that beautiful community, to do everything that everyone else does all summer long:go to great restaurants, go to MASS MoCA and the Clark. My partner went to Williams and I went to Tufts, so we usually go up and watch the Tufts–Williams soccer game. We do those things that make the Berkshires so special, but that we rarely get to experience, because we are so busy at Tanglewood. So, to answer your questions, for me, that was a big learning curve—to realize just how intense ten weeks are. Every meal is accounted for. It’s breakfast with donors or media, and lunches with artists—it’s intense. You had tremendous success with YOLA (Youth Orchestra Los Angeles). What are you bringing to the BSO and Tanglewood in that arena? The BSO’s summer program at Tanglewood includes the Tanglewood Music Center, which is arguably the finest pre-professional training program for classical musicians in the world. I say that with humility. It’s a true center of excellence. If you go hear the Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra on Monday nights, you are literally hearing the future of music. It’s an incredibly diverse group. Every Monday night, you hear them play at a level that is mind- boggling. And for the kids— students, the fellows—they’re getting to work with the greatest conductors. The conducting roster that conducts the Tanglewood Music Center on Monday nights—to say nothing of the weekend concerts—is arguably one of the finest rosters of conductors of any orchestra in the world. They’re working with an extraordinary roster of conductors, and that’s just Monday nights! It’s been going on for 75 years, but that’s the top of the pyramid. It’s also how are we, as an institution, welcoming musicians in those formative early times into arts and culture One program we do— and have been doing for five decades—is “Days in the Arts.” Every summer, we host kids from across the Berkshires from public schools to come and do a one-week residency on the Tanglewood campus, with multi-arts classes and other work. We do the same thing in Boston with kids from inner- city schools, with a week-long immersion camp called “Days in the Arts Boston.” This is the way that we’re welcoming people who might not have imagined that this world even existed, or that they were welcome in it. The BSO’s strategic planning process was recently completed, which outlines a new mission, vision, and value statement, and strategic pillars and investment areas. One of the big strategic investment areas is our education and community programs. We created an Education Task Force that is looking at where the BSO can be true value-add in ensuring we are giving the greatest access to classical music and music to the broadest possible audiences, particularly young people. You’ll hear much more on that in the next 12 to 18 months. What makes a great Tanglewood season? How do you judge the season’s success at the end of the summer? The first way to judge whether we’ve had a successful season is to take a sample of 20 people who came to Tanglewood and ask what their favorite concert was. If I get 20 different answers, that’s a great season! When the answers are different, it means we were programming in a way that allowed for so many different people to have that singular experience. If everyone picks the same concert, less so. We have to be presenting a diversity of artists who tell different stories across various musical forms. I want people to NOT agree on what their favorite concert was. That’s success. A second marker of success is revenues, of course, but it is the stories that we tell coming out of the season that matter more. Are people excited for next year? Do they plan their year around coming to Tanglewood? It moves beyond the transaction. Lastly, but perhaps most important: If I am inspiring our musicians and inspiring our staff to create a space which centers on hospitality—and we model hospitality at the very highest level—then I’m doing a good job because that is the reason people come back to Tanglewood. It’s not transactional, it’s experiential. We want people to be valued as individuals, valued as creatives, valued as lovers of music and of a beautiful campus. That’s a big indicator of our success. Last but not least: what’s on your playlist? That’s a great question. I listen to music all the time. I live in the Back Bay and I’m able to walk to work—and that’s when I don’t listen to music. That’s when I do a lot of really good thinking. The cold wind keeps my brain firing. But when I do listen, I have an in-home studio where I go—it’s my library—and I have scores, and I try to spend a lot of time on Saturday listening to refresh myself for the repertoire that the orchestra is going to be playing. But I go down rabbit holes, too. I’m a huge reader and a historian. So, right now, I’m really interested in Renaissance painting, particularly from Siena. But I will simultaneously listen to Renaissance music. On the pop side, I listen to a lot. I am a huge pop music fan. One of my joys in Los Angeles was running the Hollywood Bowl. So, I could hear Gustavo do an amazing Beethoven Nine on a Thursday night, Dolly Parton on a Friday night, and contemporary electronic on Sunday night. My taste is eclectic. That’s part of the thing I love about Tanglewood: A wide range of artists that are filling out a musical tapestry. And that is the Tanglewood season every summer! — Dr. Joshua Sherman Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue.

THE JAZZTOK STAR BRINGS HER HOLIDAY MAGIC TO THE LINDE CENTER On December 13, celebrated vocalist Stella Cole will make her Tanglewood debut at the Linde Center for Music and Learning, bringing her velvety voice and sparkling presence to a festive evening of jazz and holiday classics. The concert, drawing on her acclaimed EP Snow! (2024), which reimagines seasonal standards with warmth and timeless vocal grace, and her lush new album It’s Magic (2025), marks the final performance of the calendar year in Tanglewood Learning Institute’s new TLI Jazz series.  At just 26, Cole has become one of the most exciting young interpreters of the jazz canon, a viral TikTok and “#JazzTok” sensation whose golden-age style and modern authenticity have captivated millions online and onstage. Known for her elegant phrasing, cinematic sensibilities, and genuine charm, she has earned critical comparisons to legends like Judy Garland and Ella Fitzgerald, all while creating a space all her own in the contemporary jazz landscape.  Her upcoming appearance at Tanglewood caps an inspiring inaugural year for TLI Jazz, which extends Tanglewood’s programming into a year-round celebration of musical innovation. The series has featured vocalist Lucía, the Berkshires Jazz 20th Anniversary Concert with Emmet Cohen and Georgia Heers, Ulysses Owens, Jr. and Generation Y, and the upcoming Ted Rosenthal Trio on November 28. Following Cole’s December performance, the series continues into 2026 with Tammy McCann’s Valentine’s Day cabaret, With Love from the Legendary Ladies of Jazz (February 14 and 15), the Sullivan Fortner Trio (March 20), saxophonist Nick Hempton (April 10), and trumpeter, vocalist, and composer Jumaane Smith (May 8).  With Cole’s debut at Tanglewood—a venue synonymous with musical excellence—Stella Cole is sure to draw a new generation of Jazz vocal excellence to the Berkshires, bringing the spirit of the Great American Songbook to new listeners and classic jazz aficionados alike.  As one of the youngest and most influential artists reimagining the jazz and American Standard and American Songbook repertoire, how do you balance honoring the legacy of jazz in your performances while adding your modern voice and artistry to the mix? I think more and more, we're seeing artists who are directly referencing the music of the past, even if they’re not in the jazz world. I've been listening to Olivia Dean's new record a lot, and it's very “Stevie Wonder” at points. You can totally hear those references. Raye is a great artist who has R&B, pop, soul, and hip-hop elements in her music. But she just performed at the NFL London Halftime Show with a big band, and her music has all these ’50s and ’60s references. With the way the industry is changing, I think it makes it easier to blend old school music with a modern twist. Younger generations are buying vinyl again. They're into the ’50s aesthetic, and jazz is kind of cool and coming back. So, I would say I'm arriving in a nice time in the industry. Personally, with my own work, I’m not preoccupied with trying to make it new. I sing these songs how they were written and with presentation that's very classic, whether with a string orchestra or jazz piano trio. I think it's new just because I am a new person singing it. I also think that in my live performances, I'm very much myself on stage. I tell a lot of dumb jokes, I talk a lot, and I try to keep it pretty unscripted and loose. I think that that adds a bit of a modern sensibility to it. I'm a young person using modern social media platforms to push the music forward and keep the music alive.  You’ve said in interviews that you wanted your most recent album, It’s Magic , to sound like a classic record that transports listeners back to the magical era of old Hollywood and the Great American Songbook. What specifically inspired you to take that direction? It’s the kind of music that’s been my favorite type of music for a long time, especially since I got into this music through watching movies like Singin’ in the Rain or The Sound of Music . So, I wanted it to sound a bit like that. It felt different than what other people were doing, and it felt a little bit risky. I think there’s pressure to keep it interesting and make it so it can be bite-sized for TikTok or Instagram and have a great 15-second hook. But I want my music to be comforting, and I wanted to create something that people could put on if they've had a terrible day, and it would chill them out. That’s what people have told me online and in person that my music does for them.  Your Snow! EP brings a lot of vocal richness and warmth to holiday standards that people hold close to their hearts. What does performing holiday music mean to you? I love the holidays. Living in New York the past couple of years, I find it very romantic and very lovely. I think the holidays are a great time musically. For most of my upbringing, the holidays were the time where everyone was suddenly listening to Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra. It wasn't just me. I've had so many friends text me in the last couple of years saying, “We're at our family Christmas playing your album.” This music has a lot of nostalgic meaning for people, and the fact that this can be a part of them making new memories is great. Being a prominent new voice who is bringing this musical tradition to new generations, how does it feel to know you’ll be performing at a world-renowned institution and venue like Tanglewood? It means so much. I didn't grow up on the East Coast. I grew up in Illinois. So, the way that I knew about Tanglewood was because of James Taylor. I've always imagined it as a very dreamy, Wonderland-type place because of the lore I've heard about it. But I've never actually been there, so it's such an honor. It's been really crazy over the last few years to go from gigging in tiny bars and clubs in New York five nights a week and getting paid with a free meal. It's still very surreal to be playing these venues like Tanglewood or the Kennedy Center. I just can't wait, especially with it being a holiday show. I think it's going to have a very warm and magical feeling. Looking back to when you were at that five-nights-a-week gigging stage of your career, what would your words of advice be to an artist in a similar position? I would say, “Be delusional!” That’s what I always tell people, and it's what I always try to do myself. When I was playing those restaurant gigs where everyone was talking so loudly no one could hear me singing, and I was lugging this giant speaker on my back on the subway, I felt so certain that I was going to make it big—whatever that means. I think you just have to have that self-confidence. It gives you the drive to keep moving forward and also to reach out to people. I sent so many cold emails, including to my manager and producer [Grammy®-winner Matt Pierson], thinking he would never respond to me. And now he's my manager and producer. I also think using social media to your advantage is really important for artists right now. I know a lot of artists don't love social media. I don't always love it. It's not the best in every way. But I think it's amazing in terms of the doors that it can knock down. n  —Benjamin Lerner TLI Jazz presents Stella Cole in Studio E of the Linde Center for Music and Learning on Saturday, December 13, at 7 p.m. bso.org/tli

Director/CEO of the Norman Rockwell Museum Norman Rockwell Museum President/CEO in the museum’s gallery, standing by Rockwell’s The Problem We All Live With (Nick Burchard). The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge has come a long, long way. Under the leadership of Laurie Norton Moffatt, the museum is a world-class institution that houses not only Rockwell’s monumental works, but also works by other prominent illustrators. It’s hard to envision the museum without Laurie, who has served as its director for four decades. But, according to her, there couldn't be a better time to transition to a new director. Our coverage of the museum through the years has been extensive, and that has a lot to do with Laurie, who has been accessible and receptive to our story ideas, big and small, as well as our collaborations. It’s no exaggeration to say that the art world’s view of illustration has significantly evolved during Laurie’s tenure. She might not say it, but I will: Laurie had a hand in shifting that perception. During a recent conversation at the Norman Rockwell Museum, she talked about her time there, the tremendous community support during her tenure, and her unwavering admiration of Rockwell and his art. Tell me about being a docent at the Norman Rockwell Museum, which is how you began. The summer that I started working here, I had done a junior year exchange at Williams College. I returned to my alma mater, Connecticut College, and then worked again at the museum the summer after my graduation year. That fall, Norman Rockwell died, in November of 1978. He was not all that well the last year of his life, and I did not meet him in person. I'm sorry I didn’t meet him, but I feel I came to know him over time, especially through the words and eyes of people who did know him. So, you were a docent in the Old Corner House, which was the first location of the museum? Yes. It's now offices for Austen Riggs. It's an old house, and there were six rooms that served as galleries and two rooms cordoned off that were offices. A tour was the only way to see the art. On a busy weekend day, there might have been seven or eight guides, and every 15 minutes, another tour started. How did you prepare yourself to give tours? All the rooms had to move at the same time because they would all be full. It was just astonishing how busy and already popular the museum was. When I started working there, I was not aware that the museum was only seven years old. It had spread by word of mouth that Rockwell's paintings could be seen there. We were given notecards that had information about the paintings and historical information points of interest in the art. We had time to learn them, and we also went on many different tours with other guides to learn. One of the most memorable moments was when I was giving a tour to a group of Deaf people, and they had a sign language interpreter. I was talking about the Checkers piece, with the clown playing checkers, and he gestures to the ringmaster as if saying, “I've got you. I'm gonna check you.” The group got very animated and were all signing. “What did I do?” I asked. Their interpreter translated what they were all saying. They noticed that the clown’s hand was signing, “I won.” So, the question was, did Rockwell know that in 1928? Very unlikely, but certain gestures are universal, right? It just shows how observant Rockwell was of human nature, people’s emotions, moods, expressions, and details, and was able to paint it.  That’s really interesting. Yes, that was fun.  You were going to school in Connecticut, then you did a residency at Williams College? At that time, there were 12 colleges that had just gone co-educational. Connecticut College had been an all-women’s college. Williams had been all men. To begin to blend classes, any student of any of those colleges could apply to attend one of the other colleges for their junior year and then return to their own college. I was working here in the summer of my junior year and was looking for a part-time summer museum job with my art history major. I had learned about this museum and applied and was hired. I was working full time running the marina on Pontoosuc Lake for the YMCA that summer, too. I was 19. Your family was living here? My family moved to the Berkshires when I was four. I went through the Pittsfield public school system and have lived in Stockbridge since I graduated. How did that evolve from being a docent into being a full-time employee? There was a research project that had begun two years earlier to catalog and discover where all of Norman Rockwell's paintings were. There was no complete documentation of his life's work at that point. The two women researchers working on the project were moving on. They'd been guides, just like I was, and I was asked if I'd like to continue the project. I was an art history major. I was thrilled, so I leapt at the opportunity. It was a great big research project to determine everything Rockwell had done. We knew what was in our collection, which was 120 pieces. Now there are 800 something, not all finished works. I spent many days in the New York Public Library pulling periodicals from the reference center, going through pages of Boys’ Life magazine, identifying everything he had painted. There was no record of the full breadth of his career. Nobody knew where the artwork had gone to, other than what he had; some things had gone home with executives at The Saturday Evening Post . At the time, it was a great big matching game. It was a huge research project in determining what he had done for all these magazines. It involved going through correspondence in his studio, the letters that had been written or requests from people for a work of art. Even now, I can't imagine how we did it all. There was no internet. It was all letters, phone calls, visits, reaching out to the auction houses, to galleries, asking if any Rockwells had come in, to please let us know because we're creating a catalog. You got to know Rockwell really well. Yes, I spent eight years on that project. The result was a two-volume catalog of everything he had done. There was no digital photography; there was no scanning. We weren't even using a database computer system. It was all manual records. There were 4,000 records—remembering what he had done, its association, which magazine. What I did was set up the organizing principle around how his work was cataloged and known. Over time, we probably came to know the whereabouts of about 50 percent of his work, maybe more now. We know there were things that were lost or destroyed in a studio fire, or that early magazines didn't keep all the original art that illustrators were creating. Some would just have a closet full of work that would get thrown out. We had people talk about rescuing things from the incinerator and paintings found in attics. This is not uncommon for artist museums to do the comprehensive research of the artists. We’re expected to know what he did. Prior to that book, there was no place you could go to know the breadth and fullness of all that he had created. And it’s a living document. It's always changing. Now it's all online. A study shows up, and we can verify that it's very clear that it goes with this painting. It involves authentication, connoisseurship, and we can then add to the information around a work. Norman Rockwell, Checkers , 1928. Norman Rockwell Museum Collection. Originally published in Ladies’ Home Journal ®, July 1928. You were a researcher for eight years? I first had a title of archivist, and then I was appointed curator about two years into that, which involved not just the book project but the exhibitions, the art on the walls, the teaching of tours to broader curatorial work. The book was published in 1986. My predecessor was stepping away from his role, and at that point, I was the nation's Rockwell expert. You couldn't study Rockwell in an art history program. It wasn’t taught. If it was, it was somewhat disparagingly referenced. At that point, we were just bursting at the seams in the Old Corner House, and the board was working toward the project of a new home, and they asked me to become director and build the new museum. So, I started on another project I had no experience with but had a phenomenal mentor, my board president, Lila Berle. For ten years, we were a team. We partnered and did the work to build this building. So, you were named director in 1986 at just 29 years old. What paintings have resonated with people and with you during your tenure? Different works began to stand out for me. My process of new observations and perspectives on his art is the arc and length of my career of working with his work. Starting at age 19. Director at age 29. And then going through many of the life stages, decade by decade—having parents, parenting, losing parents, the stages of my life and also the stages of the country as one becomes more aware of contemporary events, of history, of politics, of society, cultures, other countries, as well as the opportunity to travel. I was always seeing Rockwell's work through new perspectives and opportunities that I was having around me. What became very clear to me was a deepening sophistication and gravitas of his subjects and his messaging and the nuances in them, and his extraordinary—I call it a genius—way of understanding human nature and his powers of observation. Look at an expression. Look at the clown gesturing. Look at the woman saying grace, taking time at a busy diner to give a moment of thanks with her grandson as onlookers are watching respectfully. At different stages, different works came into focus for me. How he did that is amazing. If you read his autobiography, or you read books on him, you'll read the stories of the "Four Freedoms" and his response to how to visualize freedom, and him turning to everyday people and everyday moments to articulate those grand ideals. That became the beginning of a journey for him of really launching his civil rights work, his action, even before the Civil Rights Movement, joining the NAACP long before he was painting the civil rights work and working for Look magazine, including models and persons of color in his paintings when they weren't published at that time. There’s the arc of how he began to use his platform, if you will, to communicate big ideas.  One of the things that stands out for me is what a unifier Rockwell was. He had the attention and the affection of his viewers. At the time, visual media was very much a communication tool— Saturday Evening Post or Look magazines—and there wasn't the fragmentation that we have today with so many media sources. He had a prominent platform, and he was able to bridge divides. He was able to motivate action. He was able to inspire people to change their minds about things. Rockwell was someone who knew how to get to the core of an issue and invite everybody to see it in a kindly way, in a non-judgmental, non-threatening way. The little girl walking to school, a picture of innocence and courage. Why would we have different standards for any child? Standing up at a town meeting, speaking. People are listening, looking at the speaker respectfully, even though they didn't agree with him and voted down the issue. How remarkable. It was a different era, a different time, but Rockwell spoke to everyone. He represented everyone, every profession you can think of, every race, every religion, he really tried to make space for everyone.  All of the success around this museum is embedded in Rockwell's talent and his genius. He painted and created and observed and told the story of America in his era and historically, as well. All that talent was always there. It wasn't recognized by the art world at the time when I was a student, but it was recognized by the public, by the viewers of his art. For me, that was a really jarring experience, to be a student—an art history student—hearing one thing and to be observing visitors having an extraordinary connection and experience with the art. What speaks more loudly in my mind is people's experience with art and with an artist. There was always a deep respect for Norman Rockwell. The building of this museum is an indication of the board's decision that this man's art deserves a museum. We were not, at the time, a museum of illustration art. We were focused on creating a home for Rockwell's work and the scholarship behind it. Did you find it to be your mission to change that perception of Rockwell in the art world? It was always inherent in the commitment of building a museum and believing that the work was important. We've always viewed this collection as a national collection. We're here in this beautiful village of Stockbridge, in one of Rockwell's hometowns, but he was an artist of the people and of the nation, and so we've always aimed to serve the nation and also globally through the museum, representing at least a period of time in America. What did you see as your mission? It was important in my mind that Rockwell be respected by the art world, the art community, and that the public's enjoyment of him not be dismissed. That their appreciation and respect for him not be dismissed by an art world that, frankly, hadn't even seen the original paintings. And you couldn't see them easily. Even now, with any illustrator’s work that appears in a publication, whether it's online or in a magazine, you're not seeing the painting behind it to realize the talent and skill that goes into being able to tell a full story in a single frame. That's what filmmakers Steven Spielberg and George Lucas marvel at, that Rockwell can tell an entire story in one frame. They really admire his ability to be a visual storyteller, and that's what illustrators are. It wasn't only Rockwell who didn't garner that art world respect. Illustrators, in general, didn’t. It was viewed as commercial art and applied practice. There was a sense that it was lesser when, in fact, illustrators are artists who have an incisive ability to go to the heart and core of a message and visualize it in a single image. That's an extraordinary skill that not all artists can do. Illustrators are trained to convey the essential message. That’s also an evolution of this museum, to not only represent Norman Rockwell but other illustrators, as well. It was the recognition that he was not an isolated phenomenon. Maybe he reached a pinnacle in his career that few, if any, achieved to the degree that he did. But his forebearers were the artists who inspired him, Howard Pyle and N.C. Wyeth and all the Golden Age illustrators. And then J.C. Leyendecker and Maxfield Parrish. And then Rockwell went on to inspire other illustrators who came after him. So, it was this whole cycle. All their lineage went right back to a few studios in Europe that were teaching the artists at the time. There were three different schools, and those artists had come out of those different schools, and they wove together in a period of time. So it is really a grand tradition of training and art. Then it was the rise of publishing, the need for illustrated media that began in the mid-19th century. Then the advancement of technology and color printing. Illustrations always have been tied together with technology and however it was disseminated. We define illustration as art that is distributed by mass media to mass audiences, the idea being it's not only seen by one viewer in a gallery setting or a living room setting or in your salon. It’s seen by millions of people, and it's impressionable in that sense. It's reflecting society. It's shaping thought and opinion.  You’ve been referred to as a visionary leader. It must be incredible to be connected to an institution that has evolved so significantly. What was the vision when you first started, and how did that shift? I was given the assignment to work on the catalog and produce that book and that project, but my interest in doing it was really because I believed Rockwell should be understood, respected, and preserved so his legacy would endure. It's not entirely certain that it would have without the board's commitment to building the museum and his generosity to make his art available to the public. It’s very important that it's understood that I did not build or lead this museum alone. I have incredible board partners. I've had phenomenal executive staff and team and devoted, loyal people here who love sharing Rockwell's work. He deserves to be remembered and respected. His work is a national treasure, and it should be understood and cared for and experienced and enjoyed that way. And that vision has continued up until now? That has continued, and I think the deepening work we did, the commitment to sustaining scholarship beyond the initial catalog publication, was when we established the Rockwell Center for American Visual Studies, creating a field of study around illustration art. There are 30 or so museums, maybe more now, who have academic studies centers affiliated within their institutions. The Clark is one, the Getty, the American Antiquarian Society, and now the Dali is a center for abstract surrealism. Sustaining that scholarship and embedding Rockwell as the centerpiece in this larger field of illustration, that mission shifted in 2008 and 2010, when we had done two major Rockwell traveling exhibitions. The story was important to broaden. We were already doing changing exhibitions since we had opened; presenting other artists’ works. So, the pivot and decision at that moment was to begin collecting it. When we first opened here, we agreed we would do the changing exhibitions, but we needed to focus our resources on Rockwell. We were heavily mortgaged on this building. We were building the collection. We were building out our programming. And then came the recognition that Rockwell would be more enduring and more impactful and understood as a figure, as a leading artist, by recognizing the field that he came out of. Rockwell always called himself an illustrator. You’ll see in museums in Europe how they value illustration art. It's part of a long tradition. Rockwell was always looking at the artists who came before him, in this very classical tradition of how you make a painting: the drawings, the studies, what they would call “cartoons” in Europe, the big life-sized drawings that he made right before he did each painting.  So, things really shifted in 2010, when you started collecting other artists? Yes, there are now about 25,000 pieces that include the Famous Artists School, the major mid-century teaching course on how to become an illustrator. It was really born out of the end of World War II, when there was this huge flourishing of magazines, publications, advertising—it was a push to sell commercial products. There was a demand for illustrators, and that was a training school, especially for artists who didn't live in major cities where art schools were generally located. So, we began collecting. It was also a response to the fact that there were so many collections needing a home. Prior to that time, there were only a handful of museums collecting illustrations, and there were major libraries that were repositories of illustration because it was linked to books and publishing. But the original materials were imperiled to be lost or forgotten. People were taking care of an ancestor’s art, and they couldn't keep managing these collections. So, creating a home for them not only preserved and saved some important collections, but it began to spark other museums to collect.  Have you reached the goals that you set during your tenure? Yes, it's one of the reasons I felt this was the right moment to initiate transition. We certainly wanted to rebuild to a position of financial stability coming out of the pandemic—getting our exhibitions on the road again, building our team back, and the campus planning that we've been working on. There are some wonderful plans in place that the board and our team have been doing over the last year. So, I think the stage is well set for work to continue, and we want to do that at a moment of great strength and opportunity. There's always exciting work to do, and I'm always galvanized by the next idea, but it's a good moment to invite a new leader in and continue to connect this museum with today's world.  Is there a timeline for your leaving? It’s loose. We said 12 to 18 months. It's really the amount of time it takes to do a search, have time for somebody to make the transition to come here, introduce them to our patrons, and whatever else that would be helpful.  Is there anything that you're paying special attention to or completing? There are some special projects I'm working on with the board. The big thing is the need for the curatorial collection center. We’ve been looking at the Old Town Hall. We've been looking at another building off site. We’re now examining how we will accomplish that if we were to do it on this site. It’s work space, it’s collections processing space, maybe a study center, a print room, a place where you can actually come and look at art and receive a class. So, there would be educational components to it. It's still a very formative idea, but it's part of the long-range plan of the museum. Will you stay connected to the museum after retiring? I continue to serve on the Accreditation Commission for the American Alliance of Museums, so that has me deeply connected with the museum field, as well as some other volunteer boards I serve on. I'm not going to lack for things to do, but I'm looking forward to space for reflection and “being” more than “doing,” so that whatever wants to blossom in that next chapter has space to do. What was your biggest challenge and your biggest joy? They are probably the same project, and that was doing this building. The reason it was so joyful was the collaborative partnership with Lila Berle and the board, the determination and the will that this museum would happen. We had zoning challenges. We had citizen challenges. We had fundraising challenges. We took a long time to actually achieve it, but most museum projects are 10 to 18 years. This was 13 years, from the glimmer of the idea to when we opened the door. The joy of it and the commitment of this community to making it happen was unparalleled. And there have been many, many, many moments along the way that we can connect—when we did our United Nations exhibition, certainly President Obama borrowing Rockwell’s The Problem We All Live With painting. Those moments where the art was reflecting a larger humanity message. The "Four Freedoms" exhibition on the commemoration of D-Day in France, honoring those veterans and those who had given their lives. These paintings helped inspire this nation to defend and preserve freedom. If there was any tug, it's the important work this museum still has to do in the world. The role we serve still inspires me, and we are filled with ideas of ways that this collection can be helpful to the people. I think one of Rockwell’s hallmarks is he always came from a place of optimism. Even in his hardest personal moments, he found hope and optimism and portrayed that. That's why people are so deeply drawn to him, and I think the work still has that purpose and role in the world. I hope the museum continues to present it and share it in those ways. It reminds us of times when we were fiercely divided as a nation but found common ground and found ways to move forward. I think that's an inspiring message. This country—the world—has weathered very hard, difficult, challenging times, and artists help carry people through that—not only visual artists, but musicians, writers, the theater, dance. That was Rockwell’s role: to help uplift people, to find and see hope. —Anastasia Stanmeyer

The Art of It Spring 2026 Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue. Barbara Ernst Prey is considered one of America’s foremost painters. In the Berkshires, she may be most well-known for her 2017 site-specific commission for MASS MoCA, Building 6 , which remains the largest known watercolor painting created for public display. A six-minute documentary on creating that painting has just been released. Prey also has paintings at the U.S. Mission to the United Nations, NASA Headquarters, Kennedy Space Center, embassies abroad, and elsewhere. She has a home and studio in Williamstown and in Maine, with her main residence/studio in Oyster Bay, Long Island. Prey has spent her career painting America, American stories, and the world around her—including this watercolor, Shelved Departures . On one of her drives to Williamstown, she stopped with her family at the The Ausable Club located at the Adirondack Mountain Reserve in St. Huberts, New York. Her son took her inside a boathouse to show her rows of Adirondack guideboats, fishing boats, and canoes. “It was one of those moments,” she recalls. “I look around a lot for painting ideas, and that was just perfect. It’s the story of the end of the season.” She started painting right there and finished the piece in her studio in Williamstown. The piece will be on exhibit in July as part of Prey’s 250th exhibitions at her gallery in Port Clyde, Maine. The exhibitions also will be viewable online, as well as the new documentary Building 6 , at barbaraprey.com . — Anastasia Stanmeyer Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue.

ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF STAR POWER GIVES THE PLAYHOUSE STAYING POWER By Laura Mars Spring 2026 Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue. It's 1887. The Stockbridge Casino, designed by architect Stanford White, opens on Main Street. Berkshire elite roam the art gallery, billiard room, and ladies parlor. In 1928, the social club, having outlived its heyday, was sold for literally a dollar and moved board by board on horse-drawn wagons nearly a mile east, to the bottom of Yale Hill. Artist rendering of The Playhouse after renovations. (Courtesy of BTG) Renamed The Berkshire Playhouse, it thus began its legacy as a theatrical force for nearly a century, attracting the likes of James Cagney, Jane Wyman, and Katharine Hepburn, all to become household names. Through the years, the stars keep coming: Gene Hackman, Sigourney Weaver,Gilda Radner, Karen Allen, Al Pacino, and so many more. Today, Berkshire Theater Group (BTG), after closing The Playhouse in 2019, prepares the iconic building for its second debut, having embarked on a renovation that will serve as a cultural cornerstone for Berkshire County. The curtain will rise in 2028 to reveal a theater, museum, immersive exhibits, and community hub, all with 21st century pizzazz. A more fitting 100th anniversary celebration for The Playhouse is hard to imagine. Leading the renovation effort is Smitty Pignatelli, BTG’s Director of Strategic Initiatives. The former state representative was handpicked by Artistic Director Kate Maguire. “This is an opportunity to take a historic building that was open four months out of the year for almost 100 years and make it into a year-round destination,” says Pignatelli, tapping into the experience in construction he gained prior to his political career. The building has a new roof, and next steps are insulation and preparation for the new HVAC system. He has been meeting with architects, neighbors, and potential donors, anticipating questions before they’re asked: Why renovate? What will the renovation look like? Why should I support the effort? To understand why renovating The Playhouse is so important is to know its history and that of the Mission House, which was built in the early 1740s on Prospect Hill for John Sergeant, the first missionary to the Stockbridge-Munsee Mohican people. When Mabel Choate, whose family built the Gilded Age mansion Naumkeag as their summer home, bought the Mission House in the 1920s to save it from demolition, she wanted it moved to Main Street to honor the Stockbridge-Munsee Mohican people with a museum in a prominent location. This was easier said than done, as the Casino sat on the spot Choate was eyeing for the Mission House. She solved the problem by purchasing the Casino in 1927 and selling it for $1 to financier and artist Walter Leighton Clark, with the stipulation that the building be removed. “Mabel Choate was an incredible force—truly the stage manager of Stockbridge,” says Maguire. “She oversaw the move of the Mission House to its current location on Main Street and then the relocation of the Stockbridge Casino, recognizing it was no longer serving the town in its original form and saw the potential for something new. “By bringing together three individuals who understood the vital role the arts and theater play in a community, she helped give birth to what became the Berkshire Theatre Festival.” In 1928, Clark, sculptor Daniel Chester French who built Chesterwood, studio and home, in 1896, and Dr. Austen Riggs, who founded in 1913 the psychiatric treatment facility in Stockbridge that would become the Austen Riggs Foundation, moved the Casino, and did some remodeling that included a new stage and seating for 450. They renamed it The Berkshire Playhouse and founded Three Arts Society, attracting an unending list of young artists, actors, directors, and playwrights, who today are household names, including Ethel Barrymore, Thornton Wilder, and Montgomery Clift, to name several more. But things were just getting started. In 1964, The Berkshire Playhouse was recognized as a nonprofit and renamed Berkshire Theater Festival (BTF), with Stockbridge resident and playwright William Gibson its new president and director Arthur Penn, who also lived in Stockbridge, as artistic leader. This era welcomed a star-studded list of actors like Dustin Hoffman and Frank Langella to its stage. Thornton Wilder’s The Skin of Our Teeth was performed in 1966, starring Anne Bancroft. In 1996, Stockbridge’s Unicorn Theater became BTF’s official second stage. In 2010, BTF merged with the 1903 Colonial Theatre in Pittsfield to become Berkshire Theatre Group, where James Taylor and family starred in A Christmas Carol (2012). That same year, BTG opened The Garage in the lobby of The Colonial and operated all four venues—The Playhouse, The Unicorn, Colonial, and Garage—until 2019, when the final performance at The Playhouse was a reprisal of The Skin of Our Teeth . “The past teaches us to create fresh for the future,” says Pignatelli. “Shame on us if The Playhouse, so rich in history, architecturally and theatrically, gets demolished due to neglect and becomes just another photograph in a book.” When BTG first shut down The Playhouse, Maguire assumed they would return to it as a conventional theater, which is why they held on to the seats. But neither the Berkshires nor BTG need another traditional theater. The region has more thana dozen live theater spaces, and BTG operates three of them. Maguire began imagining not only theater, but an opportunity to hear the stories of what it means to be in the Berkshires. “Through thoughtful conversations with artists and a deeper understanding of how the field is evolving, it became clear that creating a flexible, innovative space—one that could serve artists and audiences for the next 100 years—was essential,” says Maguire, noting the extraordinary technical advances in theater. “This approach also allows us to honor what makes the Berkshires such a unique and inspiring place for creative work.” The reimagined Playhouse sees actors moving about in open, flexible spaces, and projections (digital images and video projected onto screens, surfaces, and actors) as a vital part of the performances. Art installations will be transportive and participatory, responding to visitor movements, recreating the journey of Tibetan Buddhism and refugee experiences. Museum exhibits will comprise curated shows, artifacts, and first-person stories of both iconic artists and residents. Immersive worlds will take visitors into clue-finding sets and thematic tours of New York tenement homes. The Playhouse also will be a welcoming space for the community to gather, create, celebrate, and connect. “I believe that The Colonial Theatre would be closed today if not for Kate’s leadership,” says Pignatelli. “My experience in helping restore The Playhouse into a world-class year-round venue and investment in our creative economy lays the groundwork for Kate’s vision.” Maguire’s vision for The Playhouse is also rooted in the past. “I remember in my early years spending weeks in the archives with my gloves on looking at letters about what The Playhouse meant to those who came here,” says Maguire, who has been the artistic director since 1998. “Eugene Ionesco writing a play under the tree on the grounds of The Playhouse. Actress EvaLe Gallienne, the first woman on our stage, writing that ‘theater is about spreading beauty to a community.’ Katharine Hepburn complaining about how miserable she was as an apprentice at The Playhouse because ‘that actress, Jane Wyatt, got the leads, probably because I was too tall.’ Reading about how James Cagney traveled from doing vaudeville at the Colonial in Pittsfield one day to performing in Oh Boy at The Playhouse the next. More recently, when Judd Hirsch came to perform in The Stone Witch in 2016 at 81 years old, he said he was told ‘you haven’t had a career until you’ve performed at The Playhouse in Stockbridge.’ It’s those stories that helped me realize how important The Playhouse is.” Project curator Fran Rosenfeld, historian and former curator at the Museum of the City of New York, is working on telling stories of the local community through The Playhouse. “It’s exciting to discover how The Playhouse embodies not only the 100-year story of Berkshire Theater Group,” says Rosenfeld, “but also how the building is profoundly connected to the development of Stockbridge, and the Berkshires as a whole, as a leading cultural and tourist destination over many generations.” Rosenfeld also considers narratives about the Berkshires that aren’t peaceful. This was Stockbridge-Munsee Mohican homeland for thousands of years. The American Revolution was hard fought here. Residents struggled to get industry, like textile and paper mills, up and running. “These stories tend to get flattened out over time,” she continues, suggesting that this energy is right under the surface. Could that be part of the creative energy that the Berkshires is known for and part of the reason why The Playhouse is still standing and about to come to life again? Fundraising for this massive effort is ongoing. In addition to private donations, the town of Stockbridge awarded The Playhouse a grant for a new cupola. For a limited time, a local supporter is offering a matching gift of $25,000. Galas are being planned. BTG also is welcoming community members to share Playhouse memories and experiences, quotes that will be used in a variety of ways, becoming part of The Playhouse’s legacy. To donate or submit a quote, go to berkshiretheatregroup.org/savetheplayhouse . More performances that were held at The Berkshire Playhouse, clockwise from top left , Anne Bancroft in The Skin of Our Teeth , 1966; Al Pacino in Does a Tiger Wear a Neck Tie? , 1967; Karen Allen in Two for the Seesaw , 1981; Linda Hamilton in The Night of the Iguana , 2006; Chris Noth in American Buffalo , 2005; Anne Twomey, John Shea, and Sigourney Weaver in The Animal Kingdom , 1982; and Frank Langella in Dracula , 1967. Read   Berkshire Magazine 's Spring 2026 Issue.